


Don't Tell Me

by Panda_Valentine



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Married Couple, Married Life, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2019-10-14 13:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 107,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17509703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panda_Valentine/pseuds/Panda_Valentine
Summary: A sequel to Just Tell Me and a play on the "Have to Get Married To Get a Promotion" romantic comedy prompt that used to be popular on F/F back in the 90's.Lots of cute, fluffy Cid and Dainty's married life but also a strong focus on Gaius' reign as Emperor and his Tribuni.Also lots of low-key torturing Nero... because torturing Nero is fun.You will probably have had to have read Just Tell Me to understand the timeline as it calls back to a lot of the events that occur in that story





	1. Springtime in Garlemald

Visitors other than Gaius and whichever of his Tribuni were accompanying him to the Garlond Estates were rare, leaving Cid nan Garlond momentarily confused at the sandy haired figure who appeared on the white stone pathways that led to the main house.

At first he thought it was a vendor or some such, come to deliver plants or building materials for one of Dainty’s endless home improvement projects before realizing it was a very good friend and giving a gleeful wave.

“Hello, stranger!”

“Cid! What luck to find you home! I was expecting to leave a calling card!” Jenomis cen Lexantale teased, face wreathed in smiles and poking fun at the fact that Cid had once been under house arrest for his own safety and, even though those restrictions were now lifted, the white haired Garlean tended to be a homebody.

Given that Cid was technically a newlywed these 11 months past, and that he liked his wife very much, none were bothered by this.

“Gods, man. I haven’t seen you in a year at least.” Cid realized, setting aside the device he had been working on. He was in the preliminary stages of building a large fountain in the middle of the expansive front lawn.

Dainty was known the loathe the hot Garlemald summers and the fountain was to be a gift for her to relax in and beside when the weather was simply too unbearable.

So far, a hole for the fountain’s recessed base had been dug and Cid was slowly building the Magitek plumbing components that would pump the water, in between various projects as the Grand Minister of Innovation.

“Not since your wedding.” Jenomis agreed.

“Come on in, let me introduce you.” Cid grinned, seeing that Dainty had appeared at the door of the house, no doubt making sure that the Visitor was harmless. The political climate in Garlemald was mostly settled now but she would never forget that she had come to the massive Capital to protect the man who was now her husband.

Nor would she ever forget that anyone looking to dethrone Gaius zos Baelsar would first need to dispose of Cid to deny Gaius the Engineer’s inventions. The general population hailed Gaius and his reign but many of the Elites still quietly rankled at the fact a lower born man sat on the Throne.

“Good morning, Ser.” Dainty curtseyed prettily as the men approached the house. She thought she recognized Jenomis although could not place where until Cid offered;

“Dainty, you remember the Principal of the Imperial Theater Company, Jenomis cen Lexantale?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I very much enjoyed your company’s performance of Desiderata on the occasion of my wedding.” Dainty agreed, her voice taking on the soft, higher pitched tones she used when acting as Lady Aurora Garlond, nee Greystone.

Despite Jenomis and Cid being old friends from Magitek School there was no need for the actor to know Dainty’s true identity.

Even a year on from the Ul’Dah Uprising she was still a wanted woman in Eorzea and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn that remained on those shores were still treated with hostility and suspicion.

“Forgive my impropriety, old friend, but is your wife’s name not Aurora?” Jenomis looked at Cid, confused.

Everyone knew her name was Lady Aurora cen Garlond as equally as they knew her husband was Grand Minister Cid nan Garlond.

“Dainty is a nick-name. I took to calling her dainty-girl and it sort of stuck.” Cid lied glibly, leading Jenomis into the slightly messy sitting room that abutted Dainty’s expansive and well-appointed kitchen.

The married couple had come up with that explanation together, as Cid had the worst habit of forgetting to call her Aurora on the rare occasions they did actually leave the estates.

It sounded believable and had the benefits of having its roots firmly buried in the truth as being called “dainty girl” by the Grand Company she had been pledged too as a younger woman was how the mint green haired Au Ra had ended up with her unusual moniker.

“I like it very much.” Dainty smiled affectionately as Cid. “Even above Aurora.”

“Then I am glad to hear you addressed you as such, Lady Garlond.” Jenomis agreed, easy going by nature and, thanks to years spent working with a variety of people from all walks of life as an actor he was neither intimidated by Cid’s rank within the Garlean court nor puzzled by Dainty’s scaled, delicate appearance.

One of the many reasons Cid and Dainty rarely left the Estates was that they tended to provoke stares.

For many Dainty was the first female Au Ra they had ever seen as well as Cid and Dainty being the first publicly acknowledged mixed race couple in the current Emperor’s Court.

The fact that the couple also tended to eschew the prudish Garlean standards of not being affectionate in public to walk hand in hand, or with Dainty’s hand tucked into the crook of Cid’s arm also drew side eyed glances.

Dainty instantly set the kettle on to make coffee, arranging expensive porcelain jugs of cream and pots of sugar on a tray with elegant silver spoons and saucers.

It never failed to amuse Cid how a Warrior of her ability, who he had literally seen drenched in other people’s blood after putting down an Eikon alone with little more than her axe, could play a Gentle-born home maker so flawlessly, switching from one role to the other as if she had merely flipped a switch.

“So what brings you by, Jenomis? Or should I ask, how much is this going to cost me?” Cid teased, earning a sharp bark of laughter from the sandy haired actor sitting opposite him on the plush sofa.

“I deserve that.” Jenomis acknowledged a touch ruefully.

The Garlond Family had always been wealthy and although the Imperial Theater Company had been able to boast the patronage of the late Emperor Solus zos Galvus there had been more than one occasion when the company’s latest show, or extravaganza had not been quite as lucrative as hoped.

Jenomis was well guilty of coming to Cid, looking for a hand out to pay off creditors until the Imperial Theater Company scored its next hit and its coffers were replenished.

Cid had never minded, Jenomis never asked for more than Cid was willing to give his old friend and, until Dainty had arrived, Cid had had very little to worry about spending money on. The investments he had inherited with the Estate, not to mention his lucrative salary as a Grand Minister meant that money was never something Cid had had to worry about.

Dainty’s penchant for pretty dresses and jewelry, and his love of spoiling her had put a small dent in Cid’s disposable income, although the Capital and Investments remained untouched, gaining interest at an astronomical rate.

Tartaru Taru, as Comptroller of the Garlond Estates kept Dainty’s extraneous spending mostly in check, however, and for the most part Dainty’s gardens paid for the majority of the home improvements Dainty desired to do.

Cid had almost swallowed his tongue when Tartaru had explained that what Cid had mistaken as just a pretty maze of flowers was actually a collection of exotic and rare old roses that no one but Dainty had managed to successfully cultivate.

Garlean florists, looking to provide their wealthy clientele with only the very best, paid a good deal of money for Lady Garlond’s perfect, white roses.

Her latest cross-breed, a pale lemon yellow which darkened to bright pink at the base for the flower, was already being fought over by a couple Noble-born brides who absolutely needed the stunning blooms for their society weddings.

“Blame your ancestors.” Dainty had laughed when Cid had finally realized he did not have to fear the bill from her Citrus Orchard being planted as she had already paid for it by selling flowers. “They’re the ones that left an absolute fortune in seeds in that derelict old Greenhouse.”

The men of the Garlond line had long been Engineers and Weaponsmiths but the wives had been Horticulturalists specializing in floriculture and Dainty had quite gleefully picked up where Cid’s grandmother had left off.

“Jenomis, have I ever complained?” Cid scolded lightly.

This was how it always was, Jenomis embarrassed to ask and self-deprecating before finally coming around to the amount of money he was searching for, while Cid was not in the least bit worried for it.

One of Dainty’s gemstone necklaces cost more than Jenomis had ever requested for the Imperial Theater Company.

“No, no, you have been a most generous friend. Far better than I deserve.” Jenomis owned, then gave Dainty a light smile as she joined them with a carafe of coffee and an assortment of cookies. 

Cid smiled, instantly reaching for the tray of sweets. He did like it when people came to visit because it meant that Dainty would serve the really good apricot short breads and wouldn’t tut at him not to ruin his appetite if he ate more than two. 

“To be honest, Jenomis I’ve somewhat been expecting this since your last production flopped so utterly.” Cid’s voice held a tease but was not taunting. It was all in good fun and it earned him a playfully sour look from Jenomis.

“I deserve that too.” The man sighed. “My company tried to tell me, the atmosphere in Garlemald was all wrong for a dramatic tragedy but I was too proud to listen….”

The Eikon Attack, from which the palace was still being rebuilt, was too fresh in people’s minds to have any desire in seeing a play about the fall of the Galvus line no matter how proud Jenomis was of the piece.

Had the Imperial Theatre Company performed the same play in 5, or 10 years’ time it likely would have received rave reviews and been a hit but the timing was wrong.

No one wanted to hear about Varis bemoaning his monster of a son when many people were still feeling the very real, very negative effects of Varis and Zenos’ traitorous actions.

“….still, I am nothing if not resilient and fully capable of owning my mistakes and learning from them! Despite my distaste for puff pieces one of the Company sopranos has written a musical that, undoubtedly, has a lot of potential. It’s a brainless, stupid Romance between an Officer in the Imperial Army and a Doman conscript. Singing and dancing and lavish costumes and Doman sets. All that sickeningly sweet novelties that I loathe producing. However its almost absolutely guaranteed to delight the Capital right now.”

“Spirits are high in Garlemald at the moment.” Cid agreed as Dainty waited for them to pour their coffees, then made her own before tucking a curl behind one of her horns and sitting gently next to Cid. “Something less cerebral for the returning soldiers looking for cheap entertainment to enjoy would not be folly.”

“Precisely. It will no doubt pack them in, especially with how fashionable love matches between differing races currently are.” Jenomis added, quirking a grin at Cid and Dainty.

The pair exchanged a sweet affectionate smile as Cid reached for another cookie.

Grand Minister Cid nan Garlond and Lady Aurora cen Garlond were entirely to blame for mixed race marriages suddenly bursting out of the taboo and being seen as cosmopolitan in Garlemald.

Although Gaius zos Baelsar had likely never considered it at the time the fact that the Emperor himself had sanctioned the union had cast him as being tolerant towards pureblooded Garleans marrying outside of their race lines in way that had never been experienced before.

Although there were no laws forbidding it, it had previously always been considered not-the-done-thing for a Garlean to date or marry anyone other than another Garlean.

The conservatives and elites would always frown at it but within the middle class it was starting to be seen as modern and forward thinking to date someone of Aan. 

It then followed that those on the fringes of Gaius’ Court looking to curry favor with the Emperor were starting to view mimicking the marriage that Gaius had personally arranged as a tactic way to solicit the Emperor’s approval.

As an up and coming Minister what better way to distance oneself from your parents’ stuffy, puritanical politics than by being seen to date Elezen, Miqo’te or Hyurs alongside other Garleans?

“Such a play will restore my reputation within my company, no doubt and do much to replenish the Theatre Company’s woefully over extended budget. There is only the small difficulty of the aforementioned lavish costumes and exquisite Doman sets.” Jenomis explained, eyes moving from his coffee to Cid.

“Oh, I can help with some of that.” Dainty offered brightly.

Even if Cid wasn’t happy to help his old friend she herself would have been motivated to assist Jenomis cen Lexantale in producing a play that portrayed Doma in a good light. The type of feel-good musical he was speaking of would no doubt spark the Garlean population’s interest in the once occupied territory.

It might even motivate them to visit the now allied nation, which would no doubt benefit Lord Hein’s efforts to attract tourist dollars to the country until such times as their industries could be fully rebuilt.

Dainty rose, taking a cookie and gesturing Jenomis to follow her upstairs.

The second floor of the Mansion comprised of mostly bedrooms and a large open floor plan sitting room where debates and meetings had once been held when Cid’s father, Midas still lived.

Two of the rooms had been taken over by the twins, Alisaie and Alphinaud Leveilluer and a third had been claimed by Dainty as a dressing room and storage for some of her more exotic gowns and things she did not wear on a day to day basis.

Her collection of couture included just shy of 30 decorative kimono from Doma, along with obi, geta and delicate hair sticks and silken sakura for dressing her hair.

Jenomis’ face lit up in unbridled glee as she pushed open the doors to the room and he came face to face with the many gowns and garments.

Her wedding dress was displayed prettily on a mannequin in the left corner of the room but Dainty ignored it, walking to a seemingly random point among the rows and rows of sequins and sparkles to lift down a pretty kimono of pale blue, embroidered with silver cranes and pink lotus.

“Cid and I honeymooned in Doma and I fell in love with their traditional fashions.” Dainty explained quietly, handing the kimono to Jenomis and reaching for another. “I’ve 26 altoge….”

“26?!”

“The fabric was just so beautiful and there were so many people who looked as though they’d not seen enough gil to feed themselves in a month!” “Aurora” explained, eyes very wide and playing the role of an over indulged newlywed. “They were so cheap to have made and besides, Cid never told me no.”

Cid gave a chuckle and Jenomis shot Cid a similarly amused look. He could just imagine the pair in the Doman countryside, finding every excuse to spend as much gil as they had on their persons.

Jenomis was well acquainted with Cid nan Garlonds’ generosity and had come there that day fully hoping to rely upon it once more.

Jenomis bowed gratefully to Dainty. 

“I am entirely gratified for the use of your collection, Lady Garlond. My costume department could work a month complete and not recreate anything as accurate, or sumptuous as even ones of these pieces. I assure you we will take the utmost of care of them”

Being able to borrow the finery was money he would not have to spend, nor would he have to later store the garments once the play was over, saving further cost to the Company. 

“I’ll pack them up for you. The Doman sets you will have to be on your own for but if you need any references Cid did some fantastic sketches of the buildings and country side while we were there.” Dainty beamed, moving to start packing up all the garments for Jenomis to transport. 

“I’m a better Engineer than artist. I would not call my drawing skills “fantastic”, Dainty.” Cid chuckled.

“I would.” Dainty chirped, giving him a sweet smile and Jenomis couldn’t help but laugh as they moved away to leave Dainty to her task.

As they began to return to the coffee and cookies downstairs Jenomis watched Cid out of the corner of his eyes, noting the other mans’ relaxed and peaceful smile.

“I never mentioned it, Cid, but part of me always feared the Emperor had saddled you with a cold and calculating Society wife. I am not unfamiliar with the sort of woman rigid societal and class structures, such as the High Houses of Ishgard, tend to create and I was worried for you, old friend. I am genuinely relieved to find her a kind, tender-hearted creature.”

Cid was well familiar with the type of woman Jenomis referenced.

Daughters of Noble Garlean families who cared far more about furthering the social and political power of their own Family than the dictates of their heart. 

It was not an illogical assumption of Jenomis part to have suspected “Aurora”, the daughter of a High House Ishgardian Nobleman, would be uninterested in her new husband above what benefits the alliance might provide her Family. 

She was the lynch pin of an Alliance between two incredible powerful nations, after all.

“Dainty is very much a curiosity in Garlean Society in more ways than one.” Cid agreed.

Jenomis cen Lexantale was more accurate than he would or could ever know about Dainty being nothing like the type of Society Wife of which they spoke. Just as he would never know that it were her hand that slew the Eikon that had been summoned in their city, and her super natural Echo that had saved the Emperor from being tempered by that Eikon.

“So I see, are these wonderful cookies her doing?” Jenomis began and their conversation turned to lighter subjects, reminiscing of the past, the issue of the Imperial Theater Company’s costume issues now happily resolved.


	2. The Master of Puppets

The Emperor of the Imperial Empire and the Lord Commander of Ishgard made an interestingly mismatched pair as they strolled pleasantly around the gardens of the Summer Villa, Lord Gaius zos Baelsar’s personal home.

Clad in blue and gold Ser Aymeric de Borel’s pale skin, untanned from living in the ever grey and clouded Ishgard, was a strong contrast to Lord Gaius zos Baelsar, who was clad in black and red with dark, deeply tanned skin.

Only in their dark hair and pale eyes did the Elezen and the Garlean have any similarities. Aymeric’s blue eyes and Gaius’ green eyes each framed by black locks that tended to be unruly and messy if left unstyled.

Gaius’s was slicked neatly back and shot through with grey, Aymeric’s left to flop into his eyes as was fashionable in Ishgard.

Normally the Emperor of Garlemald would never meet, nor invite a foreign dignitary to his private abode however Ser Aymeric de Borel had insisted he had a personal reason for requesting a meeting above a political one.

Gaius has always disliked the pomp and circumstance of a Royal Life, still considering himself a Soldier above anything else. He had therefore spared himself the effort of holding Court in the Palace and instead had Aymeric escorted from the airship landing to his personal estate.

Gaius had assumed Aymeric’s goals were to request assistance with some issue or another from the Warrior of Light, now better known as simply Lady Garlond but had been pleasantly surprised to discover Aymeric’s intentions were focused more upon the Emperor himself.

It was to be the first Starlight in Ishgard since the end of the Dragonsong War.

A lavish cocktail party, hosted by Count Durendaire and attended by only the most notable personages in Eorzea, was in the makings.

Admiral Merlwyb of Limsa Lominsa and Ken-E-Senna of Gridania had declined the invitations however Sultana Nanamo Ul’Namo of Ul’Dah, as well as the influential Godbert and Julyan Manderville had accepted.

Gaius zos Baelsar was a skilled strategist both on and off the Battlefield. He saw instantly how meeting the Sultana socially might allow him to further his political goals at a later date. 

Especially when the Sultana was away from Merlwyb and Ken-E-Senna who might influence the younger ruler unduly. The fact that he could also make an acquaintance of members of the Ul’Dah Syndicate society was merely icing on the cake.

“I own it might be a touch awkward, Her Grace’s right-hand man, Flame General Aldynn is Ala Mhigan, and the Sultana keeps the plight of the refugees at Ul’Dah’s borders close to her heart.” Ser Aymeric admitted, but added; “However, if you will suffer to allow me to speak most frankly, seeing your Excellency at a celebration of a purely Eorzean custom, something that previous Emperor’s would normally crush from their occupied nations, would benefit you most highly. It can be held up as evidence that what Gaius van Baelsar did under orders and what Gaius zos Baelsar does under his own auspices are two very different things.”

As a Garlean general Gaius had personally brought Ala Mhigo to the Empire’s heel. It was his tactics and his machinations that had stirred the flames of a Civil War into a full inferno, allowing him to claim what remained with little more than the XIVth at his disposal.

He had ruled the subjugated lands as Imperial Viceroy for many a year too before falling out of favor with the ailing Solus for failing the conquer Eorzea and being ordered to return home.

With Doma currently in a successful transition from occupied nation to independent ally, however, Gaius felt confident he could manage any uppity Flame Generals.

He tucked his hands lightly behind his back. He had no true desire to travel to the frigid, grey Ishgard having visited once before and having had his fill of it at that time and date.

However, he could not argue with the diplomatic value of getting Sultana Nanamo Ul’Namo mostly alone to build a social acquaintance with her. Ishgard, being somewhat isolationist, had not been as large a stepping stone into Eorzean politics as Gaius had hoped.

He needed one of the other 3. Gridania, Ul’Dah or Limsa Lominsa and he did not particularly mind which.

“Consider your invitation accepted, Ser Aymeric. I presume you will not be offended if I stay only for the length of the festivities?”

“Not in the slightest, your Grace. I can certainly understand the Emperor of Garlemald is far too busy to languish in Ishgard. Even on Starlight.” Aymeric replied smoothly, secretly grateful he did not have to arrange appropriate lodging for so exalted a Guest of Honor.

“Give the details of the event to Livia on the way out.” Gaius ordered.

Livia sas Junius, her military prowess no longer in high demand by her Lord Gaius, had taken to acting as his personal assistant and schedule planner much as Rhitahtyn and Frumentari acted as Gaius eyes and ears in the Occupied Territories and Nero kept abreast of the goings on in the Garlean Capital.

Gaius was not entirely upset about these adaptions to his General’s day to day plans. He always did so enjoy it when his Tribuni made themselves useful.

At present the armor-clad Livia sas Junius was standing at ease by the doors to the Villa, watching for any hint of a threat to the Emperor’s life, as always.

Despite its stylings as a luxury retreat the Summer Villa was riddled with Magitek Security devices and the staff were all combat trained down to even to those who washed the dishes.

Gaius flashed a glance at Ser Aymeric as the Elezen bowed and observed lightly; “And now you wish to ask about Dainty.”

“Uh… yes!” Ser Aymeric stuttered, just a tiny bit, surprised to have his intentions so easily guessed. He had thought he was in better control of his features and was not quite that blatantly transparent. “Count Fortemps was most ardent in his desire to see his daughter. T’was my hope I might ask Lady Garlond and her esteemed husband to also visit and linger a few days during the Festivities.”

“Dainty is free to come and go as she pleases, and I see no reason Cid nan Garlond should be tethered here for the time being.” An amused, smug smirk creased Gaius’ features. “If you can actually convince either of them to leave the Garlond Estates, you are quite welcome to the pair of them.”

This wisdom inflicted upon the younger man his Grace, Emperor Gaius zos Baelsar dismissed the visiting dignitary with a wave of his fingers.

He remained in the garden however, seemingly at complete peace with the world as Ser Aymeric and Livia sas Junius spoke a moment. 

Despite Gaius’ relaxed countenance he noticed instantly in manner in which Livia stiffened in regard to something Aymeric said and Gaius made a note to question Livia about it later.

His sharp, olive green eyes were not the only thing betraying the fact that Gaius zos Baelsar was not quite as easy as his light steps upon the grass might imply. His hands were clasped behind his back, for most a casual action but for Gaius it was a distinct “tell” that he was considering something he did not like but needed to do.

Ser Aymeric’s invitation had solidified in Gaius’ mind a few plans he had been mulling over, weighting each pro and con as a strategist of his experience tended to do.

Once Aymeric had solicited directions on travelling to the Garlond Estates to visit with Dainty Gaius turned at once to Livia sas Junius, crossing to her in 6 long strides;

“Summon your other Tribuni and meet me in the Throne Room immediately.”

 

Nero tol Scaeva, Rhitahtyn sas Arvina and Livia sas Junius, or as their detractors liked to call them in sotto tones; the lapdog, the shield and the obsessive came promptly when called as they knew full well the consequences if they did not.

Although each privately noted it was unusual for Gaius to order their attendance when he was sat upon the Throne.

It was unusual for Gaius zos Baelsar to sit on the carved plinth in general.

They knew he intensely disliked the pageantry associated with Royal life, the giving of orders tended to occur in private in one of his many ready rooms.

Unfortunately for Gaius the Grand Minister of Architecture had made certain to rebuild the throne room first of all after Varis’ Eikon attack, so he had less and less excuse to visit that stately marble and banner clad room, despite a large portion of the Palace being still under construction.

Actually sitting upon the Throne, guarded by the XIVth and attended by the palace staff where his words would have a wide audience was not something Gaius was particularly comfortable with but on this occasion, it felt fitting.

He wanted there to be no mistake about the orders he would be dispensing to his Tribuni that day.

The three armor clad generals fell to a knee the second the Emperor entered the room, as did everyone else, however the Tribuni remained in position until called, as was etiquette when personally summoned by the Emperor of Garlemald.

“Rhitahtyn sas Arvina.” Gaius spoke, sauntering lightly up to the Throne and sitting on it as if doing so did not cause him displeasure. He didn’t necessarily like being Emperor, if he was honest, but he did not trust anyone else to competently do the job.

The Calamity of the Seventh Umbral Era was proof enough at how poor a job the previous Emperor’s had done with the position in Gaius’ opinion.

Rhitahtyn rose, giving an imperial salute with deliberate grace. The massive black armor clad Roegadyn had not the elegance of movement Nero and Livia possessed but he did not need to.

That was not his specialty. There was a reason he was called Gaius’ Shield.

“For some time now the plight of the VIth Imperial Legion has weighed on my mind. When I took the Throne, I did fully promise to bring home all soldiers afield in foreign lands. More and more I am beginning to feel that this pledge ought to include those that, although their Legatus acted traitorously, are guilty of nothing more than loyalty to their Commander.

I would have you seek out the remains of the VIth and convince them once again take their rightful place as one of the many legions of the Imperial Army. To do so you will form a new VIth as a Legatus and incorporate Regula van Hydrus’ men into the fold.”

Rhitahtyn now entitled to the title “van” instead of “sas” bowed instantly, heart leaping unseen in his chest.

His own Legion.

It was all he had ever hoped and dreamed. How many years had he labored in the Imperial Army, passed over for promotion again and again solely because he was not Garlean born?

Only Gaius, then but a sas himself, had recognized Rhitahtyn’s unparalleled defensive skills and had helped Rhitahtyn rise through the ranks as Gaius himself rose through the ranks.

Once more Gaius was using his own elevation in rank to elevate Rhitahtyn.

“As my Emperor decrees.” Rhitahtyn van Arvina straightened and was dismissed with a wave of Gaius’ hand to turn and exit the throne room, heart full and mind awash with strategy.

Despite his joy Rhitahtyn was well aware this would be no easy task. Regula van Hydrus’ men had fled Garlemald almost half a decade ago and had either entirely defected into Eorzea or were living rough in unsanctioned or formerly abandoned Imperial Outposts such as Castum Abania and Castrum Merdianium.

Convincing them that more than a traitor’s death would be their futures were they to return to Garlemald would be difficult. Convincing them to place in him the trust and loyalty they once gave Regula, abandoning their homeland before abandoning their Legatus might be impossible.

But the prize was entirely too sweet not to try.

“Livia sas Junius.”

Livia rose at her Lord, and loves, word.

Her face was obscured by her helmet and for the better, lest her longing for Gaius be telegraphed plainly on her features for all to see.

For several long moments the man on the Throne did not speak, merely watching the woman as she gave a perfect salute and stood at attention.

“Livia, Livia, Livia… whatever am I to do with my most loyal Tribuni and most ardent supporter?” Gaius sighed after several moments.

It was entirely a rhetorical question, although Livia did have a few suggestions on the off chance he was genuinely asking. Almost all of them involved her, and a bed.

“I have erred in keeping you in Garlemald all these years Livia, nipping your wings ‘ere they had a chance to bare you to heights unfathomable. It is a mistake I would correct. I am therefore sending you to Ala Mhigo. You will arrange for that country to be converted from an occupied territory to an allied yet independent nation.”

Livia felt her heart quicken as Rhitahtyn’s had but for an entirely different reason. It was fear, not jubilation that spiked her pulse.

She dared not speak but almost every part of her ached to cry out in protest at being sent away from his side. How could he do so terrible a thing to her?

Not only that but Her Lord was setting her up to fail. To do what he asked was utterly impossible.

Ala Mhigo was a mess, between Garlean occupation and the insanity of the Mad King the country had been pillaged, raped and burned for far longer than it could withstand.

It had been stripped of resource and riches, with nothing given back to the land, to the point that it could no longer support the people that lived upon it.

Those peoples had been brutally subjugated and broken so long that it seemed to release Ala Mhigo now would be to sign its death warrant. 

Livia too was keenly aware that while she was a skilled tactician on the battlefield she had no mind for the kind of diplomacy that such a hand over of an entire nation would require.

“I do admit that this is an ambitious challenge, and I shall not leave you without the tools to successfully accomplish it. I name you Livia van Junius. Legatus of the XIVth Imperial Legion.”

A hiss of surprise went around the room, and not unwarranted.

The XIVth was Gaius’ legion.

In ceding it to her it was clear he was, at long last, completing the transition from Soldier to full Royal Life, something he had long resisted.

Not only that but Nero tol Scaeva was Gaius’ second in command and a Tribunus Laticlavus to Livia’s Tribunus Austiclavus, making him her superior by a full rank.

Command of the XIVth should have been given to Nero. A fully formed, battle honed Legion was an incredibly valuable resource in the Imperial Army. Even if Nero was promoted, and given the right to form his own Legion a fledgling, untested unit was vastly inferior to one that had been working together for many years. A legion that Nero was already comfortable leading as Gaius’ second in command. 

To award the XIVth to Livia was a very noticeable and very insulting snub to the crimson clad Nero tol Scaeva.

“Right or wrong I raised you in my image, Livia and it is now time to prove to me that you have learned your lessons well. Master that nasty pride of yours and you will find the reward most worth your efforts.”

Again Livia’s soul cried out to reply.

She had assumed her promotion was her reward, she knew the value of the XIVth, but acknowledged herself a fool for thinking so.

Of course, Gaius would know that being sent away from his side was nothing but a punishment to she who loved him so. 

“For should you complete this task to my satisfaction you will be given the privilege of deciding the identity of my Empress.”

Livia van Junius sucked in a breath, falling into a bow to disguise her reactions to Gaius’ words.

Surely she had heard that wrong.

He was so smart, surely, he must know that she would name herself! As if there were any other choice!

An impossible task... he does not want to marry… long have I known this. Yet willing to do so if so much good is wrought our lands. So wise, my Emperor. I will do this. I will. I must.

Livia van Junius straightened and snapped off a salute.

“As my Emperor decrees.”

She could scarcely believe she had managed to make her voice even toned and level, her mind a whirl. 

Gaius dismissed her as he had Rhitahtyn and finally looked at the last of his Tribuni.

“Nero tol Scaeva.”

The crimson clad man rose, and saluted as the others had, and then removed his helmet to reveal blond hair and bright blue eyes. As tol Nero was at liberty to do so in the Emperor’s presence, where Livia and Rhitahtyn, as sas, had remained helmeted in accordance with Court protocol. 

A smirk curled Gaius’ lip, glad that Nero had removed the armor as Gaius always did enjoy tormenting Nero and watching the blond struggling the control his rage.

“Fear not that you will be sent to Ala Mhigo under Livia’s command, Nero. You will be spared that indignity. Instead you will put together a small task force of the best and most deserving of your Frumentari and make plans to depart to Ishgard with Minister and Lady Garlond. This task force shall include Alisaie Leveilluer, incognito, of course and remain in Ishgard until I join you. ”

Gaius had no doubt Aymeric would be able to persuade the couple to travel, despite his earlier words. He also had no problem revealing that Archon Louisoux’s grandchildren resided, protected, in Garlemald if it would sway Nanamo Ul’Namo’s opinion of him in the direction Gaius wanted it to go. 

However, he wanted to keep that as an ace up his sleeve, preferring to let the Sultana judge him on his own merits first, before revealing the mutual acquaintance. 

Nero blinked, waiting for more but earned nothing more than a dismissive wave of Gaius’ fingers.

A small lick of anger curled up his spine, manifesting into white-hot rage, realizing that that was it. 

There was no promotion, no praise for him, unlike what had been given to the other two.

Only, once again, a yank on Nero’s leash and making him to bare the humiliation of watching Gaius favor Cid nan Garlond over himself.

Nero forced himself into a bow, controlled to the last despite the rage that was curling in every limb, begging him to drive an armored fist into Gaius’ stupid smirking face and be damned.

“As my Emperor decrees.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeee, got this Chapter up a little early.
> 
> Poor Nero. Gaius is SUCH a swot.


	3. The King and Queen of Poor Manners

THREE

 

“Are you out of your mind?! Raubahn has known me since I was a green girl. There is no way he will be taken in by dyed hair and lifts in my shoes.” Dainty insisted, looking at Ser Aymeric like he had grown a second head.

“You are a better actress than you think, Dainty, and you will be given all the props you need to act as Aurora once more. Including, perhaps, a large, overbearing Garlean husband who won’t let you speak to anyone, let alone another man?” Ser Aymeric suggested leadingly, looking at Cid nan Garlond.

“I am not being mean to Dainty.” Cid scowled at his plate of rum cake.

He was not pleased by what Ser Aymeric was asking, even if he was quietly delighted at getting to eat his fill of the really good baked goods that Dainty reserved for serving guests two days in a row.

Apricot shortbread yesterday when Jenomis had visited. Rum cake today for a surprise call by Ser Aymeric de Borel.

“Of course not.” Aymeric soothed, “Not mean, just, a touch over domineering, perhaps.”

This did nothing to placate Cid. 

He did not like the idea of being domineering either.

Especially since Dainty might like it a little too much. She did like it when he played dominant with her in the bedroom, after all and he didn’t want to give her any ideas about role-playing outside of the bedroom.

“To fully own the truth, Dainty, rumor of Aurora and the Warrior of Light being one and the same has started to swirl especially thickly of late. I have done all I can, as always. The official story being that it was Gaius zos Baelsar who took up the mantle of Belle Haillenarte’s champion against Zenos is believed in Ishgard at least. But you know how desperately the City States seek you.”

Dainty pursed her lips.

She could well believe the fundamentalist Ishgard buying the lie that it was Gaius’s hand that slew Zenos above her own. For then they would not have the swallow the idea that the righteous Halone lent her Divine Fury to the filthy half-breed that Aurora supposedly was.

It was far more comfortable for their ecclesiastical ideals to think the Emperor deigned to partake in a Halonic trial than think a bastard child, Aurora Greystone, worthy of the Fury’s blessing.

“I can think of no better way to put those rumors to rest than to have Aurora, in all her quiet, meek, unassuming glory, visit Ishgard and remind everyone with her soft, gentle presence that there was no way that such a timid, delicate creature such as herself could ever be mistaken for a Warrior capable of putting entire cities to waste.” Ser Aymeric stressed.

“I don’t like it, Dainty, even above my own reservations it puts you too at risk.” Cid protested, ever since the day they had been married his priority had been to protect her. “What does the bounty at your head sit at? 1 million? 2? What is to stop that Haillenarte fellow you told me about attempting to kidnap you to cash in?”

“Surely Lord and Lady Garlond would travel with their own staff of bodyguards and servants?” Ser Aymeric questioned, and it was a genuine one.

He had been surprised to see such a well-appointed, lavish estate as that owned by Cid nan Garlond appeared to have not a single member of staff.

When drinks and rum cake had been dispensed it had been Dainty who did the serving, and from Cid’s words Aymeric could infer that Dainty had done all the cooking of it also.

“Grand Minister, not Lord.” Cid corrected. The Garlond name was technically titled but Cid had never particularly enjoyed being addressed by an inherited title over that which he had earned himself. 

He would rather his power and rank within Garlemald came from the weight of his Ministership than getting lucky at birth and the fact he called the Emperor family.

“My apologies. It would not be untoward for at least a personal bodyguard to travel with a Grand Minister though, I assume?” Ser Aymeric pressed.

“More common than not.” Cid admitted with a little frown, even though he hated the idea of being served and waited upon. “I still don’t like the idea of having to be mean to you, Dainty.”

“I know, my love but, I cannot bare to think of House Fortemps being harmed by these rumors. Haurchefant and Edmont took me in when I had nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. You know what the intrigues of the Garlean court are like, its worse in Ishgard! I could have at least sent Edmont gifts from Garelmald. Magitek oddities and tributes to my Lord Father as a dutiful daughter should, so that he may hold them up as proof of our kinship and bond. Yet I did nothing of the sort.” Dainty replied, ashamed of herself for not thinking of it before now.

She had thrown herself so devotedly into being Lady Garlond and ensuring that she and Cid need not be married in name only, despite their arranged marriage, that she had forgotten all about Ishgard.

“I will not deny Edmont’s reputation is somewhat in tatters.” Aymeric spoke gently.

He had not wanted to mention it, not wanting to guilt Dainty into visiting should his own voice not prove compelling enough. “His alliance with Lord Gaius and wealth keeps his position secure but the value of his word is greatly diminished.”

“And protecting me is to be blamed for it.” Dainty sighed unhappily, looking up at Cid, her purple and orange eyes huge and imploring, one hand gripping his arm. “Please, love.”

 

* * * *

 

“Ugh, that is the most unpleasant thing I have ever endured.” Alisaie grumbled, yanking the borrowed helmet off her head and taking a gasping breath of air as if she had been unable to properly breathe.

“Indeed?” Nero questioned, his voice muffled from within his own helmet but the taunting in his tone was undeniable. “Held in captivity and tortured for falsified crimes you did not commit, yet having to masquerade as a Garlean for a few hours is the most unpleasant thing you have ever endured?” 

“Yes!” Alisaie snapped. Her ears had been squashed in an awful way and they were aching now.

“Tsk, racist.” Nero snorted, removing his helmet at last to scold.

“Excuse me?!” Alisaie gasped, deeply offended. “Where precisely do you get off thinking....”

“You made me the same accusation after forcing me to dress as an Elezen, despite the fact it was the discomfort of my attire I objected to, so, fairs fair.” Nero cut her off airily, quite happy to pay her back in kind for that particular slight.

Alisaie stared at him, blinking, for several long moments, struggling to realize he had been hanging onto that grudge for over 7 months before sharply remembering this was Nero tol Scaeva, after all.

She rocked back on one hip, folding her armor clad arms and giving him an unimpressed look.

“Little bloody wonder everyone thinks you aren't as smart as Cid. Your Deepeye on a hamster wheel of a brain is full of nothing but imaginary slights!”

Cid ran his finger around the high-necked collar of the tunic he wore uncomfortably and Dainty shifted in her seat to reach up and, a hint of playful smile hovering over her mouth, unbuttoned the neat line of 4 buttons she had had purposefully installed into the tunic.

After almost a year of marriage she was well familiar with her husband’s comfort levels by now, splaying the tunic open enough to reveal the top of Cid’s solid, muscular chest.

Neither bothered to look up as the Queen of Sass and the Lord of Snark glared daggers at each other.

“I do not believe I imagined you calling me the undeserved name Lady Leveilluer but if my memory is faulty do attempt to correct me.”

The manner in which Nero said her name was absolutely irreverent, giving no respect to her title in the slightest and Alisaie simple shrugged.

“Never fear, I shall be certain to stick to deserved ones, such as halfwit, dumbass and cake witted pissant from here on out.”

“While I admit the woman has an inventive vocabulary it is ever so lowering for a Lady of your station to be stealing phrases from Dainty cen Garlond.”

“Bold talk for the man constantly attempting to steal designs from her husband. How many times have I caught you in Cid's workshop now, Nero? Ah yes, that is right. 98! 2 more times and you get a gold star. It just reads Shitshow.” Alisaie fired back, gesturing to her chest where such a star might proudly reside were he a small child.

Neither paying attention to the fact that Cid and Dainty were seated with them in the luxurious upper decks of the transport ship. This pronouncement was mostly ignored by the couple who merely smiled silently and looked out the “windows” of the Emperor’s personal airship.

They were not truly glass windows would make for a weak point in the military class airship, and as such poorly design simply could not be tolerated in Garlemald. The scenery was instead fed to almost impossibly thin monitors via security cameras around the airships perimeter. 

Dainty held up a two with 2 fingers, indicating Alisaie had scored 2 points in her verbal sparring with Nero.

“That's Spectacular Shitshow, get it right.” Nero corrected in ugly tones.

To say that Nero was displeased about travelling to Ishgard as Grand Minister and Lady Garlond’s personal bodyguard would have been putting it lightly. 

The man had been wearing a pinched expression ever since Livia had been promoted above him and Alisaie didn't begrudge Nero his hurt feelings at being left to languish as a tol while Livia had jumped two ranks to van.

Not that Nero would ever admit to having feelings. Muttering nothing but that he trusted his Emperor in ever so slightly sarcastic tones when drawn upon the subject.

“Do something spectacular and I might.” Alisaie yawned.

“I should think conversing with you without dropping dead of boredom should be more than enough to suffice.”

Cid and Dainty smothered a laugh lest the pair realize they was paying attention to their verbal sparring, but Cid held up a finger and awarded Nero a point for that one.

“Well there is your problem, Nero. Next time you have thought, let it go.”

That was it for Dainty, who laughed aloud at the bickering pair, reminding them sharply that they had an audience.

“You two are the worst.” Nero accused from the corner with a disgusted expression, seeing that Dainty was sitting in Cid’s lap, their hands curled affectionately together.

Public displays of affection were considered tacky, and classless in Garlean Society.

Not that Cid or Dainty had ever cared, holding each other’s hands and kissing in public without the slightest hint of propriety.

“Spectacular Shitshow. I'm going to have to remember that one.” Cid observed. He turned back to the window, enjoying the silence for a few moments and wondering how long it was likely to last.

He started counting slowly.

“How in Holy's name do I get out of this idiocy anyway?” Alisaie asked, tugging at the white armor she wore.

“You don't.” Nero's tone brooked no opposition. “Need I remind you; you are under orders to keep your identity to yourself?”

“What do you think I am doing, you twit?” Alisaie rolled her eyes, ignoring his dire glare. “Just because your moldy cheese brain forgot there are members of the Uldian Ruling Class that are heavily invested in Ala Mhigo doesn't mean that I am unaware. I can hardly show up pretending to be Livia van Junius when they will know she is in Ala Mhigo commanding the XIVth by the time Starlight rolls around, now can I?”

Nero scowled deeply and fell silent. He had been thinking no one in Ishgard likely to be familiar with Livia’s movements, therefore her identity would be perfect to conceal Alisaie’s. Had Nanamo Ul'Namo not been set to visit the frigid city, something Nero had not known until this moment, he would have been absolutely correct. His expression earned him a smirk from Alisaie. “Fortunately for you I packed one of my spare Signifier's disguises to cover our backsides.”

“Helpful.” Nero muttered, unwillingly. Alisaie dropped her voice to a lower register, mocking him;

“Oh Miss Leveilluer, you're so smart. Thank you for fixing my cock-ups.” she changed to her own voice. “You're so welcome Nero. Thank you ever so much for remembering your manners for the first time in your life.” 

Dainty assigned another tally to Alisaie. 

Nero, who was now undeniably sulking, started to tell Alisaie how to take the armor off, muttering to himself under his breath the entire time.

Blowing up at Alisaie, Cid or Dainty would do nothing more than give Gaius fodder to tease him with.

The Emperor did so enjoy pushing Nero’s buttons and the thought of Nero squirming and loathing his way through this assignment would keep Gaius amused for a month complete.

“Stop that.” Cid scolded lightly, Dainty running her fingertips across his now exposed collarbones playfully, provoking a ticklish shudder from him.

“Let me play.” Dainty purred softly. “You’ll not be able enjoy my touches the moment we land. Best we both enjoy them now.”

Cid scowled, he still was not comfortable with the role he was supposed to play in Ishgard.

He utterly adored Dainty and enjoyed being able to show it freely at home. Being stern and acting as her Master, rather than as her devoted husband would require a change in physical behavior, not just in words that Cid did not like.

Cid really, really did not like that she had used a potion to take the curls out of her hair and rendered it black with soot coloured dye.

The effect was startling. With the curls gone it fell long to the small of her back, and its dark, unruly length managed to make her look even paler than usual. 

Her eyes, dark magenta purple with bright orange limbal rings, seemed to loom out of her pale face, clashing with her pale skin and scales instead of being balanced out by her hair when it was worn in pastel tones.

Cid was dying to see her natural blonde colour, although Dainty claimed to have been dying her hair so long she no longer remembered what it looked like. She thought she recalled it being a platinum shade not dissimilar to Livia sas Junius, though.

“Coming in to land, Minister Garlond, sir.” The Captain announced, addressing the highest-ranking person there and momentarily rankling Nero’s nerves further still.

The Captain, and the entire crew, were members of the XIVth. These men and women were under Nero’s command as tol, the second in command of the entire Legion.

Nero tol Scaeva was undeniably the highest ranking Military official currently present but, as a Grand Minister of the Garlean court, Cid out-ranked him in Garlean Society.

Dainty quickly gave her long, waist length locks a brush through with her fingers, coaxing it to be a little bit unrulier than it truly was, rather than attempting to straighten it.

The thick, black locks and her height, which was tall for an Au Ra, were her best weapons in convincing people that she was an Elezen Au Ra hybrid rather than a pure blooded Raen Au Ra.

Her shoes, although the fur trimmed boots appeared to be flat soled, actually had subtle lifts built into them, giving her yet more height.

Alisaie, now masked and clad in a simple black tunic with red trim and loose fitting grey pants, lightweight armor at her shoulders and hips, the Garlean insignia in silver was embossed on the simple leather belt that highlighted her slender waist blended her in perfectly with other soldiers, found herself oddly nervous.

Despite having moved with-in Eorzean borders several times since the Ul’Dah Uprising Alisaie had made certain avoid the major city-states. The lingering reminder that the last time she had stepped into one she had been tortured hung in her mind, despite the lack of scars on her body.

Alisaie had no idea if Nanamo had sanctioned her kidnap and torture in Limsa. Dainty didn’t think so, placing the full blame on Merlwyb’s shoulders and Gaius clearly doubted it enough to think Alisaie useful in his efforts to curry favour with Ul’Dah.

Her trepidation aside Alisaie could not fault Gaius’ decision to have her join Cid and Dainty’s away party. 

Depending how his meeting with Nanamo went it would make a powerful statement regarding Garlemald’s motivations regarding the eradication of Primals, and that they would protect their allies, to reveal that Louisoux grand-daughter boasted Garlean protection.

If Nanamo was hostile, Alisaie would remain in disguise. If Nanmo responded favorably Gaius might choose to share with the Sultana that Garlemald had designs on eradicating not just Primals, but Ascians and reveal Alisaie, a Scion of the Seventh Dawn, as proof.

The docking was smooth, the airship slowing to almost a crawl before stilling entirely and beginning the vertical descent to the ground, the engines idling lazily.

Foundation had no true Airship dock, the closest one was in the Sea of Clouds and currently occupied by the Protector, which was not airworthy despite Ishgard’s best machinists doing everything in their power to try and get it airborne.

This left the visiting Garleans to land the airship in Coerthas, just beyond the Gates of Judgement, and enter into the City via the Steps of Faith.

Dainty was curious to see how much of the Steps had been restored after Nidhogg’s final defeat had leveled several of the ballista towers and torn up the cobblestones something wretched. Her axe had left more than a few deep gorges and score marks in the rock as Nidhogg had deflected, or dodged her blows too.

Clad it a pretty crimson red and black robe, Garlean colours, that managed to wash her out even more than her dark hair did, Dainty approached the exit doors, tucking her hand into Cid’s arm as she did with a little smile.

“Sorry if I mess up.” Cid offered quietly. 

Being duplicitous was not his forte, or something he particularly enjoyed but fortunately the role of a stern, overbearing husband lent itself to being silent and frowning a lot, which Cid rather felt he would be doing in confusion anyway.

“You will do fine. You did great in Doma, remember?” Dainty coaxed.

“That isn’t precisely how I remember it.” Cid murmured.

They argued rarely but Doma had been the first and largest disagreement they had ever had. 

One of the few things they struggled with as a couple was the fact that both tended to shut down when issues and conflicts did occur, requiring them to push themselves, or each other to rationally talk about the problem before resentments built up and exploded in a way both feared.

Dainty was always afraid of losing her temper in a violent way and Cid was somewhat paranoid about upsetting a woman who could flounce back to Eorzea at any moment she so desired, even if she insisted she never ever would.

“Stop being over dramatic, or I shall start calling you Nero.” Dainty threatened playfully, earning a laugh from Cid.

“Yes, Dainty.”

“One, I heard that, two, the worst.” Nero retorted from behind them, his voice distorted by the helmet he had donned.

The doors opened with a pleasant hydraulic hiss, and a soft crunch as they made contact with the snow covered ground and settled into place to allow the occupants of the sleek, kohl grey airship to exit.

Alisaie's nerves returned a hundred fold but the application of Nero’s fingertips to the small of her back propelled her forwards a step, then another, and another until she was following along in Grand Minister and Lady Garlond’s wake quite obediently.

The other troops, 12 in total including Alisaie, emerged from the lower galley to fall into formation being the Garlond’s.

The cold, armor clad fingers retracted from her spine, then touched her left hip.

When an order was barked she turned automatically to the left, managing to keep in perfect formation with the rest of the soldiers she was hidden among.

“Thank you.” Alisaie muttered, sotto voice over her shoulder.

If Nero heard her, he didn’t reply.

Alisaie found it easy to forget how damn smart Nero was sometimes. Of course, he would have recalled she would not know how to march in formation. Where would a Sharlayan Scholar ever have learned such a simple but critical skill?

As such he had positioned himself in order to guide her movements with the fleetest of subtle touches, indiscernible to anyone but Alisaie.

A variety of familiar people were waiting just beyond the Gates of Judgement to greet the Garlean guests and Dainty had to bite back a smile to see them.

Aymeric’s familiar messy hair and bright blue eyes, Lucia, in her silver armor and Count Edmont de Fortemps, leaning on his cane, with Artoirel at his back.

Dainty schooled her features into a pretty, soft vulnerability, eyes wide as if slightly scared and slightly confused about everything around her. Her shoulders rounded, chest falling, just a little, to disguise the confidence her stance usually held.

Her hand, resting on Cid’s arm, curled slightly, as if clinging to him, rather than being equally escorted by him.

Cid could only admire her acting abilities from the corner of his blue eyes, standing up very straight and looking at the unfamiliar faces with a confidence he did not feel.

“It is with great joy I bid you welcome to Eorzea for the first time, Ser and even greater pleasure that it is our fair city that you shall visit.” Aymeric spoke, bowing deeply to the visiting guests. “As requested, I kept the welcoming party as small as able. Fully I might have had a riot on my hands if I had not allowed the Lady Aurora’s blood family to come with, however.”

Cid recognized this for what it was.

Not for his benefit, but for the Ishgardian soldiers around them.

Although they were few in number they boasted the colours of 4 different houses, Cid noted, and Aymeric’s words would help quell any suspicion of Aurora Garlond’s identity.

“Your consideration is noted and welcomed.” Cid replied, grateful that Dainty had coached him with a couple lines to fall back upon when he wasn’t sure what to say in a situation and silence was not appropriate. 

“Aurora!” the Count de Fortemps called out, overjoyed to see his “daughter” and moving towards her with quick, long strides

A stern glare from Cid, his arm moving to momentarily block Dainty and the armor clad crimson thing taking a menacing step in his direction checked Edmont sharply.

The message was very clear.

Aurora was Garlean property now, not to be touched or spoken too without her husband’s direct permission. 

Much like Aymeric’s speech this too was all for show. 

Dainty, as the Warrior of Light, had long had a reputation for being willful, stubborn and fiercely independent. Anyone who knew of her, even solely by the stories told, would not believe for a second that a Warrior of her status would allow herself to be treated in such a way.

“My apologies, Ser. My delight to see my daughter got away from me.” Edmont offered Cid a very deep bow.

Cid gave an austere nod.

Only then was Edmont allowed to approach “Aurora” hands held out politely and giving the timid Au Ra a kiss on each cheek.

His dark eyes lingered on her face, hoping her eyes would raise and give a flash so that he would know that all was well but Dainty’s eyes remained resolutely lowered, as would be expected of her station and, the moment he released her, she returned to her husband's side.

She was a consummate actress, the Count knew, but he was not at all confident that this was a mere act. Warrior of Light or no, he would have been heartbroken to learn he had had a hand in marrying her to a cold tyrant.

“Let us proceed into the city. I fear a strong wind is soon to kick up.” Lucia observed, drawing agreement from the others. 

Cid and Dainty followed Aymeric, leaving Lucia to stride towards Nero confidently, realizing she was clearly looking at someone very high ranking within the Garlean armies.

She might have been away from her homeland for a very long time, but she could still recognize a sas, or tol when she saw one. “If you would like to follow me, Commander, we have barracks for travelling soldiers that your men shall not find lacking, and a room at the Forgotten Knight will be ordered for yourself, of course.”

The Garlean airship they had travelled to Ishgard departed as they began to cross into Foundation.

It had been the Emperor’s personal vessel and needed to return to Garlemald to retrieve its Master for the Starlight Festivities scheduled at the beginning of the next week.


	4. Ishgard - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero is determined to get something beneficial out of this godsawful trip, one way or another.

The second they were behind the closed doors of the Fortemps Manor Cid dropped all pretense, wrapping Dainty up in his arms from behind and snuffling his face into her hair to press kisses to the top of her head and muttering;

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” between kisses.

Dainty giggled, her steps averted by the embrace but not minding that over much.

Artoirel, eye brows faintly raised, was surprised to see the sudden affection between the pair.

He had never cared for his “sister” and disliked the consideration Edmont had always paid her. It was only after she left and her value in allying the Fortemps and the Emperor of Garlemald had come to the forefront that Artoirel had managed to say a single nice word about her.

“I told you, you would do splendidly.” Dainty offered, turning in Cid’s embrace to hold her mouth up for a kiss.

Cid chuckled, pressing his mouth against hers, quickly, aware they had an audience before releasing her.

Edmont smiled, deeply relieved to see the affection between the pair. 

According to Aymeric, who had seen Dainty twice since she had been married, the Warrior of Light was fond of her Garlean husband. Edmont had questioned the younger man on this subject several times and each time Aymeric had had nothing but reassurances for Edmont.

Yet the manner of the Garlean contingents arrival had given the Count de Fortemps grave doubts and he was now relieved to see that Ser Aymeric had spoken true. 

“I’ve always known Dainty to be a good actress but you, Ser, outstrip her.” Edmont observed to Cid after Dainty gave him a squeeze before stepping away. It was easy to guess that the man’s now relaxed features and good-natured smile were an indication of his genuine personality. “You almost gave me a heart attack with that stunt at the Steps!”

“I am very sorry…”

“No apology needed. ‘Tis necessary. And I would not have you think me unappreciative of it either. I am wholly aware this charade benefits of House Fortemps most of all.” The Count acknowledged. “My somewhat tattered reputation would be devastated and irreparable should the truth of Dainty, and the lies I’ve woven around the City come to light.”

“Please forgive me if, during your time in Ishgard, I was cold, or unkind to you, Dainty.” Artoirel bowed deeply. “It was only after you left, and by Belle Haillenarte’s word, did I learn the truth of your identity.”

This was accompanied by a narrow-eyed glare at his Father from the corner of his eyes for keeping him in the dark about Aurora and Dainty being one and the same. Edmont, for his part, looked utterly unrepentant.

The truth had been a need-to-know situation, and Artoirel had not needed to know, Edmont felt.

“I was disappointed not to see Belle on the Steps, is everything well?” Dainty questioned, concerned. “And…no wedding rings…?”

Artoirel’s elegant hands remained bare of the telling jewelry while Dainty’s glittered with a fashionably ostentatious ruby and diamond set.

“Acquit me, Dainty. T’is Haillenarte’s doing, not mine.” The Count assured her. “Relationships between the two houses have…cooled… significantly in the wake of your departure.”

“I will see if the Baron might consent to allow Belle to visit with you, however.” Artoirel gave another bow and departed quickly.

The trio moved confidently to a pleasantly warm and well-appointed sitting room, the servants taking Dainty and Cid’s luggage to the large Bedroom and Stateroom that the Count had ordered for their accommodation. 

“I need either a nap or a strong drink.” Dainty announced, approaching the rather well stocked sideboard confidently. She had tossed and turned with anticipation last night and her excited energy was fading on her now that she was here. “Since it’s probably not polite to curl up on a sofa with Cid at 4 in the evening, a pre-dinner drink will have to suffice.” 

“Do pour us a brace, Dainty, dear.” Edmont suggested as they settled into the high-backed leather chairs that surrounded a fetching marble and gold coffee table. At the end of the room a fire provided warmth and an elegant amount of candelabra gave the room a pretty, warm glow.

His dark eyes moved to Cid momentarily, “I mean no offense, truly I see her as my daughter.”

“Oh, none taken.” Cid assured him.

It didn’t even occur to him to be bothered to hear another man addressing Dainty as “dear”. Dainty had often described Edmont as the closest thing to a Father she had ever known and Cid viewed the man as such.

The moment, which could have grown awkward quickly, was interrupted by Dainty handing each of them a drink, and the two men quickly noted that she had made the same kind of drink for both of them with a knowing little smirk.

“You like rye whiskey?” Edmont observed, surprised by this. It was an uncommon libation in Eorzea and generally considered to be an acquired taste with oak aged whiskey being the more common.

“Ah-ha, so that’s why she grins when I drink it.” Cid replied, narrowing his eyes playfully at Dainty who did indeed grin in response. “Yes, that face.” 

“He prefers beer but yes, Cid likes rye whiskey.” Dainty added, preferring brandy herself and helping herself to two fingers from the assortment of very good quality liquors that Edmont kept in the house.

Edmont couldn’t help but smile a whisker, seeing the comfortable familiarity between the two. 

It hurt his heart too, a little. Knowing that, if things had gone differently, it would have been Haurchefant, not Cid enjoying Dainty’s pretty smiles.

The grief of his son’s passing was no longer so fresh that it stung tears to his eyes but seeing Dainty happy with someone who was not Haurchefant was, admittedly, stirring up some difficult emotions for the Count.

Still he pushed it down. His feelings were his own to master and had no bearing on what should be a pleasant, joyous evening.

“Tell me, what is the Baron’s issue with Belle and Artoirel being wedded?” Dainty pressed, disapproval in her tone as she settled in beside Cid, small enough to share his chair with him and leave free seating for the others when they joined them.

Seeing the pair, who had long been star-crossed, finally wedded had been a desire of Dainty’s since long before she departed Ishgard and motivated her to leave a large sum of money with Francel, Belle’s brother, to felicitate the match as Belle’s dowry.

She was a little aggravated to learn the union was thwarted still.

“With Emanellian and Laniaitte wedded the Baron is now claiming Belle and Artoirel therefore count as siblings and will not conscious the match. In truth he blames poor Belle for not simply letting Zenos yea Galvus abuse her for the wealth it would have brought the House.” Edmont explained, then remembered quickly that the white haired Garlean upon whose lap Dainty perched may or may not have known the slain man. “I apologize for my candor if Zenos was….”

“A monster, believe me. Not that the poor sod ever stood a chance with a Father like Varis.” Cid observed.

“I feel for the Baron. He never did recover after Chlodebaimt’s death at the Steel Vigil just as I shall never recover after losing Haurchefant at the Vault but Haillenarte’s behavior this past year has been uncommonly desperate and combative. There are better ways to restore his House’ fortunes than to turn on his own children! The way he has treated Francel, Belle and Stephanivien speaks of a disordered mind.” Edmont’s brow furled deeply, very worried for his old friend.

“What has he done to Francel?” Dainty questioned, drink paused half way to her mouth. As Haurchefant’s wife she had been fond of Francel, Hauchefant’s best friend.

The young man, although of no particular talent, was kind and well-mannered and had never failed to treat her with dignity and respect. Even when all believed her nothing more than a base born hybrid.

“Complete disinheritment for attempting to defend Belle, I’m afraid and the Skysteel Manufactory, Stephanivien’s pride and joy, has been barred and closed since Stephanivien sided with Francel. Both are currently at Camp Dragonhead “in disgrace” with Emmanellian and Lainette. Aurvael is the only one left who don’t loathe the Baron and that is likely only because the man is too busy plotting explorations to the Diadem to notice his own nose.”

“And I thought Garlean politics were bad.” Cid commented as Dainty sighed heavily;

“What a mess. I wonder if Belle would like to come to Garlemald with us when we return? As fashionable as mixed-race marriages are right now I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard to find a Minister’s son keen for a pretty Elezen for a wife.” Dainty observed.

“The Grand Minister for Architecture has 6.” Cid agreed, thinking of the middle boy in particular. 

The young man had recently graduated Magitek School with a strong aptitude for Architecture and was making great strides to follow his Father into the Ministry. 

Cid had met him in passing only once or twice but recalled the fellow had had high praise for the Emperor’s open mindedness, especially regarding Cid nan Garlond’s marriage and the troops returning to Garlemald from the newly liberated Doma, some of whom had married of aan. 

The man would likely have been very pleased to participate in the suddenly cosmopolitan event of marrying a different race and would be very glad to have a wife who could boast close friendship with Lady Aurora cen Garlond.

“She’ll never leave Artoirel.” Edmont scolded Dainty softly. “You know her better than that.”

The door opened and a cowed, reserved looking Artoirel entered the room alone, clearing his throat slightly;

“The Baron was… in his cups.”

“Oh.” the Count said flatly, a very grave expression transforming his features.

A feeling of chill crawled up Dainty’s spine as Artoriel failed to meet her eyes;

She tended to only experience such a sensation when her Echo was alerting her that something or someone hostile was approaching her and it instantly put her on high alert.

“Where is Belle?” the Au Ra demanded softly rising to her feet.

“He would not permit her to leave.”

“Are you a man, or a mammet, Artoirel?” Dainty asked archly. “You’ve 30 years youth on the Baron.”

“And he would take it out on her if I tried it worse than he already sodding has!” Artoirel flashed, temper pushed in just the right way for the inference that he would not stand up for his beloved.

He wanted to, she had no idea how desperately he wanted to put Baron Haillenarte in a hole for laying hands on Belle but he was not at liberty to do so.

Dainty recoiled back;

“Already has? How long has this been going on?”

“Months.” Artoirel admitted, shooting a glare at Edmont. “Believe me, Aur...I mean, Dainty, I wanted to do something about it but I’m not quite Count yet.”

He loathed his Father for putting reins on him and forbidding him to interfere on this issue and would gladly throw Edmont under the chocobo pulled cart of Dainty’s fury.

Dainty rounded on Edmont, eyes demanding explanation.

“Are you letting the Baron beat Belle?!”

“Dainty, you can hardly think I have any control over….”

“You could have told Artoirel to take her and come to me!!!” Dainty exploded, fully hurling her drink at Edmont, who cringed in his chair, managing to duck the glass but barely. “I’ll murder him! And then you for standing idle!!”

Cid leaped to his feet. He had seen Dainty this mad only a handful of times before and knew she would do as she threatened if something did not reign her in, and quickly.

It reminded him strongly of the day Rhitahtyn had carried a beaten and bruised Alisaie Leveilleur into the City, and Dainty’s threats to murder the woman responsible for it.

“I doubt there is enough alcohol in the world to embolden the Baron to stand up to Nero tol Scaeva, perhaps Lady Aurora might send her armored personal bodyguard to fetch Miss Haillenarte and not risk exposing herself?” Cid pointed out, earning himself a fuming look from Dainty.

He was absolutely right but sending Nero to fetch Belle would not soothe her desire to make the Baron eat his own teeth. “Do not look at me so, Dainty. I’m not saying a beating is not deserved….” 

Cid had accepted Dainty was prone to violence by now, especially when those who could not protect themselves were being abused. He knew what she had done to the Crystal Braves and corrupt Brass Blades in Ul’Dah.

His tone turned into a little more scolding than he intended but he was feeling a little unappreciated at that particular moment “…but I am going to be a little bit upset if I have to pretend to bully you, only for you to blow your own cover in a rage fit. You know I’ve no head for duplicity and do not like doing this, Dainty.”

That took all the hot air out of the auri’s vengeful sails quickly, her expression dropping from one of rage to one of penitence.

“You’re right, love.” She went to him quickly, to give him a chaste kiss. “I apologize, I was not thinking and being inconsiderate.” 

Edmont slowly relaxed, impressed with Cid’s ability to manage Dainty’s ire. 

“Is your man at the Forgotten Knight? I will meet him and show him the Haillenarte Manor. The city can be a bit tricky to navigate on foot if you aren’t familiar with its alleyways and cobblestones.” Artoirel offered, eager for anything that would get Belle out of the Haillenarte manor until the Baron sobered up.

“Thank you.” Cid agreed, momentarily stepping aside to relay the message as Dainty moved to retrieve her glass and make herself another drink. 

“I am not apologizing for throwing my glass at you.” She snipped at Edmont, eye narrowed. “The Emperor of Garlemald told you to your face he admired your daughter’s loyalty to her friend, when her own family did not show it. You had options!”

It would be a long time before she forgave the Count for letting the defenseless Belle be harmed when he had the power to prevent it, Ishgardian politics be damned.

 

 

“I’m little fuckin’ busy, Garlond.” Nero growled, snatching up the communicator on the desk and rather annoyed to have had to remove his face from Lucia’s neck to have to do so.

The woman had just given a rather delicious shudder in response to his rasping his teeth across her skin.

She had not expected to find herself so physically attracted to another Garlean, having lingered in Nero’s company only to ask if, perhaps, he had ever heard of her sister Livia and to assess if Nero knew who Dainty was as opposed to Aurora.

Then the man had smiled in a way most pleasing to Lucia, letting her know that Livia was his fellow Tribunus in the XIVth and that he was well aware who Lady Garlond truly was.

When Nero invited her in for a drink Lucia couldn’t think of a reason why not. Unlike most men she encountered on a daily basis Nero tol Scaeva was outside of Ishgardian politics and had no motivation in trying to sweet talk her in order to curry favor with the Lord Commander's right hand woman for a later date.

One drink had led to another, to another until they’d ended up a bed together. Unlike most woman he encountered on a daily basis Lucia Junius was not in a position of inferiority to him and had no motivation to try to parlay an affair with a commanding officer into an under deserved promotion. 

For her part Lucia was mostly amused by the interruption, watching Nero with passion drunk blue eyes. It very easily could have been Ser Aymeric hailing her rather than it being Nero who was being summoned.

“I apologize, Nero but if you do it Dainty will be very happy.”

“And why should I care?”

"Needs you recall she still holds the key to Azys Lla? That she hasn't surrender it to me? Anything you do can do to get into her good graces will only benefit you, Nero.”

Nero paused at that, giving the communicator a side eyed look and finally easing himself off the half-naked Lucia.

Lucia’s presence was almost instantly forgotten by Nero in light of this information. Still, he dared not hope, not even a little. Almost anything he desired was taken away from him and given to Garlond and it was Garlond’s wife who held the key to all of Nero’s desires.

“If you are playing me, Garlond….” Nero hissed between his teeth.

“I would not dream of it and I know my little wife's personality quirks. We are in Ishgard because of a debt to the Fortemps she believes she owes. So if you were to make her owe you a debt or two...”

Nero refused to hope but it was in vain, a sliver of it crawling up his spine. 

“What is it that will make Dainty owe me?”

“Meet Artoirel Fortemps outside the Forgotten Knight and fetch Belle Haillenarte for a visit..”

“Really, a babysitting…?!”

“More like a kidnapping. The Baron is drunk and abusive. Use force, else Dainty will.”

“Oh.” Nero’s lips thinned. Cid didn’t need to say anything more.

Nero had enough of a grasp of the situation to rise to his feet, going in search of his hastily discarded armor. Lucia was not upset to be so abandoned, even in her half clothed state.

Nero’s bed would no doubt still be there in an hour or two. Getting Belle Haillenarte away from her drunken Father was far more important to the pretty blonde woman and she swung her legs over the side, reaching for her own discarded clothing.

“If you’ve not objection to a little company I’d not mind seeing the Baron fully put in his place.” Lucia commented, “That man has deserved a right thrashing for longer than I care to consider.”

“There is little about your company I object to.” Nero replied with a smirk, letting his blue eyes linger on Lucia’s half-dressed form.

She was prettier than her sister, he’d had no problem telling her so. 

Livia’s perpetual smirk, and tendency to narrow her eyes in an unkind manner had etched deep lines into the corners of her mouth and eyes. Lucia, despite being the elder, had not these markings although her eyes were not as spectacularly violet, and her hair was ashier than Livia’s golden platinum.

“You could smirk less.” Lucia teased, it was playful though as she rose to don her own armor. “Proceed me. I will rendezvous with you at the Haillenarte Manor. Little Lord Fortemps needs see me exit your rooms not.”

Nero nodded, he preferred not to kiss and tell himself and so exited the room quickly without looking back. Dark had closed in while he was getting to know the rather delightful Lucia Junius and there was a hint of something that Nero couldn’t quite place in the air.

He thought it was smoke, although there was a number of open brassiers burning merrily around the city, trying to stave off some of the chill.

Nero recognized the tall, dark haired man who met him outside the Forgotten Knight as 1 of those who had come to greet “Minister and Lady Garlond” at the Gates of Judgement earlier that day. That whole production had made Nero glad for his helmet, so that no one would see him rolling his eyes repeatedly.

Nero had assumed his being sent to Ishgard was nothing more than Gaius looking to push his buttons, as was Gaius’ wont. As much as Nero had loathed the idea when Gaius took an idea into his head none were at liberty to refuse. The Emperor of Garlemald absolutely insisted all measures be taken to protect Dainty’s identity and keep her in Garlemald by Cid’s side.

Artoirel gave the armor-clad Nero a respectful nod and in silence the pair turned to traverse the city on foot. As a Garlean Nero was unable to use the atherytes that dotted the city.

The scent of smoke seemed to be growing stronger, Nero did not think he was imagining things, especially as Artoirel seemed to suddenly stiffen and muttered something crass sounding before taking off into a dead sprint.

The sounds of a commotion reached their ears the closer they drew to the Haillenarte Manor.

“Belle!” Artoirel shrieked, seeing the Manor was licked by flames, several harried Thurmaturges attempting to combat it with Water and Ice spells as the Chirugeons were seeing to the servants already pulled from the building.

He surged for the front door, unthinking, only to be driven back by a wall of heat that made him throw his arms across his face defensively.

“Which room?” Nero demanded, judging the building not yet fully consumed by fire.

“East Wing, 2nd floor… her Father locks her in, the idiot!”

Nero was already sprinting into the smoking house, his armor able to protect him from the heat that had pushed back Artoirel in an instant and assured no others made any rescue attempts.

Several sensors in the crimson magitek ensemble informed him to move away from the heat, rather than towards it.

The west side of the house was already ablaze, no doubt that was where the fire has started but the eastern stairs were still intact, allowing Nero to charge up them. The hallways branched to the left and right with no indication of which he should take.

“Fuck shit! Oi!! Where are you, then?!”

The sound of a door being desperately rattled answered him and the vile screaming that could only come from a harpy or someone afraid for their life.

Nero ran in the direction of the wails, fully shouldering the door open.

Belle choked almost instantly on the smoke that flooded into the room, coughing and looking at the crimson, armored thing that had burst into her room. Nero’s helmet was fashioned as a dragon head and with the dark smoke that accompanied his arrival and her own panic it made him seem demonic.

The hallways behind Nero glowed as the flames started to crawl up the east side of the Manor. All the old wood, oiled and polished until it glowed for a century or more, was providing ample fuel for an inferno.

“Get on the bed!” Nero ordered, recognizing just how little time they had. His armor was no doubt scalding to the touch from moving through the house.

Belle gaped at him and he loomed at her threateningly “NOW!”

She dared not refuse, leaping for her bed, still coughing and realizing what Nero intended when her plush, velvet comforter was wrapped securely around her.

Belle, now protected as best she could be from the flame, was hauled over Nero’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes and he moved to exit the way he came.

The glow from the flames averted his movements quickly. He might make a return trip down those stairs safely but Belle would not, just as Artoirel had not been able to even enter the house.

“Fuck me!” Nero snarled turning on his heel and stalking for a window and kicking out the ornate leaded, stained glass, figuring them all to be locked.

The chit had a balcony, this proved both aggravating and helpful as Nero climbed out onto the stonework. He was a good bit higher up that he would have liked, but there was only one safe exit for the girl at this point.

If he had been a better man Nero might have given a word of warning, or reassurance to the Elezen over his shoulder before he climbed the masonry and leapt out into nothingness. But he did not consider for the second how the sudden feeling of weightlessness and gravity would be for the panicked Belle and was highly annoyed when she started screaming again.

Nero, heavy in his armor and with Belle’s weight on his shoulder, dropped like a lead weight to the cobblestones below, shattering several and denting others and being forced to a knee by the impact. 

Every bone in his body and his teeth rattled in his head for his stunt.

His spine, both knees and left hip protesting the landing in several ways. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, whether he would admit it or not.

Steam rose violently off his flame hot armor as the cold Ishgardian air hit it, making Nero seem like a void sent.

“Belle!” Artoirel sprinted to Nero’s side, reaching to lift Belle up into his arms with Lucia close behind to give help. The woman coughed, struggling to free her arms from the comforter before she wrapped them around Artoirel’s neck, clinging to him as she burst into relieved and frightened sobs.

News of the blaze had reached the Fortemps Manor apparently as Cid, Dainty and the Count de Fortemps were racing towards him as Nero rose to his feet, glad to be breathing fresh air once more. 

The filters in his armor had done well to keep him from inhaling any smoke but they wouldn’t have lasted forever and would likely need a good cleaning now.

“Nero! Are you alright?!” 

“Why, Garlond, you almost sound like you care.” Nero purred, brushing some cinders off his shoulders.

“Yep, you’re fine.” Cid retorted, narrowing his eyes at the other Garlean before Nero’s own moved to Dainty. 

She had instantly gone to Belle’s side to comfort the brunette Elezen.

It occurred to Nero one of Belle’s lips was split and there was a bruise below one eye that rather suggested it’d blacken it by morning.

It was a fist, not a fire, that had done that.

“Any word of the Baron?” Edmont asked, “Or what happened here?”

“Daddy…” Belle coughed from Artoirel’s arms “… sometimes falls asleep… with a pipe…”

“Aye.” The Count agreed, eyes moving back to the flames. “And if he were even half as drunk as Artoirel observed….”

There was no need to speak further upon the matter. The Baron had likely fallen into a drunken stupor and known nothing else from that moment forwards.

“Someone ought have Stephanivien fetched from Camp Dragonhead.” Lucia observed, her voice grave.

It was very likely that the young man was now the Baron de Haillenarte.

She had taken command of those attempting to avert the blaze and had them direct their efforts towards preserving the surrounding structures instead.

The Manor itself was too far gone at this point.


	5. Ishgard - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Married life does not treat the Garlonds' poorly.

“Dainty?”

A wordless noise from the Au Ra had woken him. He was usually a heavy sleeper so the fact she had managed to rouse him from deep sleep instantly put Cid at high alert.

She also normally made very little noise when she slept.

Small happy noises were common when just falling asleep and just waking up. In the 11 months they had been sleeping in the same bed he had gotten quite used to the sighs she made and adored each and every one of them, but this was different.

She was curled into his arms, as she always was but the little sobs were anything but normal. 

Cid realized in an instant Dainty was crying in her sleep, stroking a hand over her dyed black, braided hair and trying to wake her.

“Dainty, sweetheart, wake up.” Cid rubbed her scaled arms rapidly, trying to coax her awake. “You’re having a nightmare.”

Her body suddenly tensing violently, as if she were about to struggle against his arms before, with a gasp her eyes flew open;

“Haurche…!” 

She stared up at the muscular Garlean leaning over her for several moments, blinking, tensed as if about to struggle. “Oh…!...oh…”

She went limp again, all fight going out of her as she suddenly remembered where she was as wakefulness returned. 

“Are you alright?” Cid asked carefully as she raised a hand to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

She gave a soft little hiccupped breath that usually signaled the cessation of tears, just breathing a moment or two before giving a quick nod.

“Yes, my love. Just a bad dream.” Dainty said with a tight smile. “I should have known being back here would provoke it of me.”

“With all you’ve been through, and lost, both of us should have expected that.” Cid commented, leaning in to kiss her forehead gently.

“How long did we agree to stay for?” Dainty asked, turning onto her side and hunching in on herself. She wanted to go back to Garlemald.

The fire had kicked up some ugly memories and spawned a nightmare so vivid it turned her stomach.  
She had never been easy with emotional pain, preferring to flee from it than confront it with the same bravado that she faced physical pain.

“Only 4 days. We will be home soon” Cid promised, reaching between their bodies to move her tail over her hip before he spooned his body around hers intimately. He fully wrapped her up in his embrace, tucking her arms into her chest with his holding them there and leg over hers as if he were another blanket that could cover her entirely.

Dainty nuzzled her face into his arm a little, mindful to ensure her cranial projections didn’t dig into his shoulder but wanting to show him that she was grateful for the embrace. 

She derived comfort best from physical touch. Cid snuggling her as tight as physically possible was the best way to soothe her at that moment. 

“Thank you. I love you.”

“You’re welcome, my… little wife.” Cid replied.

He still hadn’t quite managed to get his mouth around “I love you.” Or “my love,” despite the fact that she had taken to saying it within a few months of their arranged marriage.

Cid considered himself incredibly lucky that she did not mind that he had yet to say it back.

He was pretty sure he loved her, he just wasn’t entirely sure he knew what love was and that confusion played in his mind, halting his words, every time he thought to say; “I love you, too”.

He kissed her darkened hair, missing her curls but entirely understanding why she had styled it straight.

She would never have passed for Edmont’s child without it and the length of it, falling all the way past her waist with its curls removed, amused Cid a little.

A strange, and unnecessary jealousy settled into Cid’s gut, preventing him from sleeping, even as Dainty drifted back to sleep in his arms.

He knew she had been a widow, and that her husband had been the child of the Count de Fortemps but the man’s name had rarely been spoken in Cid’s presence before.

Dainty had spoken it once or twice when recounting some amusing anecdote that she thought he might enjoy but Cid found that he had never really dwelled on her past beyond hearing her stories of it.

Dainty had always been content to throw herself whole-heartedly into living in Garlemald, and being his wife and Cid was content to take his cues from her.

Her past seemed wholly irrelevant when she spent her days reopening all the closed rooms of his house and outfitting them to her tastes. 

Generally Cid was too busy thinking she was incredible, when she took the time to learn to make things he liked, and then brought him a freshly made, hot lunch every day, to remember that she had once been incredible for someone else.

Just as the ornate bedroom and stonework scenery of Ishgard had provoked thoughts of the past for Dainty so too did it for Cid, in an envious way.

Cid knew it was stupid. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about someone else touching her, someone else kissing her. Her mouth drawing out someone else’s name in ecstasy.

All of a sudden, had a spigot had been turned on his brain, insecurities that he had never once thought of before suddenly flooding his mind?

Did she miss Haurchefant? Did she think of him? Did she compare the two of them in her mind? What if the man had not died? Did Haurchefant used to tell her he loved her, as Cid seemed incapable of doing?

 _Stop. Just stop. This is stupid._ – Cid scolded himself.

Nothing in Dainty’s behavior had ever given him a reason to question. She was wonderful and took his breath away on a daily basis the way she spoiled him and lavished him with attention.

He knew this was all coming from him and yet he couldn’t turn it off.

Cid buried his face in Dainty’s hair and tried desperately to focus on the feeling of her body against his and not that her body had once rested against someone else.

 

* * * *

 

“Did I keep you up last night, love?” Dainty spoke softly, emerging from the bathroom freshly showered. Her wet hair piled up in a plush cotton towel and a silk robe wrapped around her slender form.

The Count had spared no effort to ensure his Garlean guest and “daughter” would be comfortable during their stay in his home.

Cid had been asleep still when she rose to bathe but when she returned he was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing the cotton pants he habitually slept in. With the curtains open to let daylight stream in and the light of the fire that warmed the room Dainty could see that there were lines beneath his blue eyes.

He looked like his sleep, if he got any, had not been restful.

She instantly felt bad, assuming she had probably lapsed into nightmares again, and had spent the night twitching enough to keep him awake.

“No.” Cid ran a hand over his face tiredly, giving his beard a good scuffing, momentarily distracted with thoughts of needing a trim. “You passed right back out as usual and didn’t make a peep. My brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Ah, I have been there before. Thank you for holding me, love.” Her light smiles betrayed that she had assumed his over active mind had been thinking of something no more harmless than one of his many Magitek projects. She walked over to her vanity, selecting a brush and pulling off the towel to tame her curls straight for the day.

“Of course.” Cid answered her with a smile of his own.

She always thanked him for taking care of her in her sleep, which he appreciated even if he thought it unnecessary after all this time. He enjoyed doing it and slept better himself for holding her. “Did Haurchefant used to hold you?”

Dainty almost dropped her brush in surprise.

Cid had never asked about her late husband before, content to let her talk about him if she felt like it or not. Neither of them had ever pushed the other for details about their pasts, respecting that each had a rather traumatic one and would speak of it when comfortable.

Cid instantly regretted asking her when the smile fell from Dainty’s face. 

She stilled a moment before slowly starting to brush her hair again, angling her body slightly so that she could see him in the mirror.

They had promised to always be honest with each other and although she would have preferred not to speak of of former husband at all she answered truthfully;

“No. Haurchefant slept with his back to me and I would lay against him. Only you actually hold me.” A small smile curled her lips. “Even though it sometimes sends your arms numb.”

Cid recalled suddenly the very first night they had shared a bed. She had hesitated before curling up at his side, despite being the one to ask to sleep near to him. 

Cid realized now that she had probably been expecting little more than being allowed to sleep with her hand on his back or similar. He had taken it a step further, fully wrapping her up in his arms.

No wonder she always thanked him for it.

Dainty looked at Cid, curious and a touch concerned. “Is this why you couldn’t sleep?”

“Yes.” Cid admitted ruefully, shaking his head at himself. “For Hells knows what reason, I could not stop thinking about that you were once married before.”

He didn’t want her to think that this was in any way on her, or her fault. This was all him and he knew it.

He didn’t even know what Haurchefant had looked like until he had seen the portrait hanging in Count Fortemps' study, yet somehow Cid was still wildly jealousy of the man for having once been Dainty’s husband before Cid even knew who Dainty was.

Dainty shifted her position on the plush, velvet stool at the vanity to look at him, the fabric of her robe falling aside to expose her bare legs.

“You always knew I were a widow, my love. Why does this bother you now?”

“I don’t know, Dainty, nothing more than my own stupidity probably.” Cid replied, scowling at himself not her.

She rose gracefully, moving to his side and wrapping her arms around him sweetly.

He was grateful for her touch, and the reassurance it provided as she started to knead his shoulders, easing the tension within them. Cid didn’t feel as though he deserved to ask for it when it was born by unattractive, baseless jealousy but appreciated it all the same, her small scaled hands sweeping up his neck and into his hair. 

The sudden thought of Dainty doing this for Hauchefaunt hit him, making him scowl, mostly at himself for letting such stupid possessiveness intrude on a sweet, and tender moment.

“What is it?” Dainty pushed, seeing his expression instantly as she rubbed his scalp.

Once upon a time she would have given him time, and space, telling him to voice what concerned him only once he had grown comfortable speaking upon a subject but she had learned that that tactic would result in little more than an argument by now.

While she tended to shut down, or physically withdraw with emotional discomfort Cid would bottle it up, and take his poor mood out on those around him. 

Unless one of them made the effort to resolve the issue right away their somewhat poor coping habits could lead to an ugly feedback loop of Dainty getting her feelings hurt by Cid’s waspish behavior, and shutting down until such time as he was feeling better enough to speak about what bothered him and then she would explode at him for being unnecessarily unkind to her.

If Doma had taught them anything it was that their marriage would live or die by communication.

“Did you love him?”

An expression Cid couldn’t name crossed Dainty’s face, her lips twisting to the side slightly.

“I thought I did at the time.” Dainty replied after taking a few moments to order her thoughts. “In hindsight, I am unsure. Was what I felt love, or the infatuation of a heart broken, grieving woman clinging onto someone who seemed able to protect her?” 

Cid recalled Dainty had mentioned something about being weakened when she arrived in Ishgard, although it was in passing and he knew not the full details.

“Do you miss him?”

“Of course.” Dainty answered at once and when he frowned a little she added. “You miss your Father, do you not, even though you are very conflicted about how he died.”

“Yes.” Cid agreed.

When she put it in that context it did not seem unreasonable.

“Although I love our marriage, and our life together I will always mourn that I did not have more time with Haurchefant. I am left with doubts and regrets that I will never be able to reconcile. Had I known him better….” Her hands fell from his shoulders and she broke away to move to the window, frowning deeply as she looked out of it.

“Dainty, you don’t need to…” Cid began, regretting asking her about her late husband.

“No, I want you to understand.” Dainty insisted. “When Haurchefant explained why we should wed it made perfect sense, I made no protest. He was a good friend and I knew he revered me. I had no reason not to trust him that this was a better way to keep me safe than my being hidden at Camp Dragonhead as I was. Yet, when I look back, I cannot explain why Haurchefant pushed for marriage so insistently when it made more sense to disguise me as his sister, which is ultimately what was done to smuggle me into Foundation.”

It was a terrible question to face, Dainty hated the doubts that lingered in her mind so, especially as any easy answers had gone to the grave with Haurchefant but the speed at which the Elezen had championed marriage being the best way to protect her had always left her uneasy. “The niggling suspicion that I was manipulated while weakened, vulnerable and not in my right mind has plagued since before I were made a widow at the Vault. Had I had more time, had I been given a chance to know him better, I could have been absolutely certain that the marriage was nothing more than a panic to protect me and not a scheme to exploit me into his bed while I was half crazed with grief and liable to agree to anything.

“Logically, I know that the most likely answer is that Haurchefant had genuinely believed that marrying me was the best way to protect me as it instantly granted me his Family connections and access into Foundation where I would be safe behind its warded and guarded walls. The better idea of disguising me as Edmont’s hybrid daughter only occurring later, once clearer heads prevailed and Edmont realized Haurchefant's seriousness about the situation. But I will never know for sure.” 

The fact that so many over her life had sought to control her and the Blessing granted to her as the Warrior of Light had inclined her to be suspicious of people that seemed too good to be true. 

Cid considered her words, knowing her bias towards believing the worst about people and having a strong suspicion that she was casting unfair aspersions on her late husbands' intentions. But it was not his place to scold her, nor would it likely soothe her doubts so instead he gave her a slightly lopsided grin and offered;

“At least you never have to worry about why I married you.”

“Yes.” Dainty agreed, breaking into a bright smile. “You married me because your Emperor told you too. I will always know that absolutely.”

The fact that he had not wanted to marry her and had remained hesitant even after discovering her true identity was significant to Dainty, who had been alternately fawned over or dismissed as a fraud most of her life.

“Yep.” Cid agreed shamelessly. “Anything we managed to build from there was all **your** doing.”

“Ci-id.” Dainty scolded with a laugh, as he once again joked about it being only her that had contributed to the success of their marriage, despite Dainty feeling like it was a combined effort.

He smiled at her, moving to her side and drawing her into his embrace for a long, lingering kiss, happy to see her smiling again.

It didn’t matter if Haurchefant had once been the man enjoying Dainty’s embraces. Cid was the one doing it now and she never had to worry about his motivations for doing so.

They both lingered in the kiss, one becoming another, and another, and another.

Dainty both gave and derived comfort from touch and Cid had eagerly adopted the habit since marrying the Au Ra. He had been utterly starved for touch and companionship before she had been suddenly thrust into his life.

“They’ll miss us a breakfast.” Cid murmured but doing absolutely nothing to arrest their present course of action, arms around Dainty and pressing fleeting kisses to her lips.

“Oh, let them.” Dainty giggled, twining her arms around his neck and standing on tip-toe to kiss him fully with what he considered to be a rather sexy little growl.

Lips parting and tongues meeting as passion started to run away with them.

Both would much rather have cold coffee and hot sex than the other way around. His hands found the ties of her robe, slipping it easily from her exquisite, naked form.

Cid scooped Dainty up easily, carrying her over to the bed they had only very recently departed and setting her down on top of the sheets.

Dainty ran her hands through Cid’s white hair as his mouth moved across her skin, feeling her warmth and spiking her pulse.

His touches were possessive, hands finding her breasts, teasing her pebbled nipples and gently reshaping the flesh to fit his palms and his tongue dragged across her collar bones. 

Dainty she minded not in the least.  
If he needed that to remind himself she was his she was glad to provide it for him, and play along.

She raked her nails down Cid’s back and felt him hiss slightly against her skin, angling her head so that she could playfully bite his shoulder.

If she was his, he was hers and she’d leave marks all over him to prove it.

“Stop that.” Cid scolded, not really meaning it, catching her mouth in a hard kiss, barely letting her breathe, let alone reply. 

“No.” Dainty argued, being a brat and grinding against him, all riled up and rushing.

“You be nice to me or I’ll leave you here and go to breakfast.” Cid warned and Dainty pouted.

He would too. His willpower when it came to playing games with orgasm denial was leaps and bounds above hers and he knew it.

Dainty promptly dragged her nails down his back again, but not as roughly, a pleasing scratch rather than a full rake.

“Good girl.” Her murmured against her lips.

He moved to remove the simple cotton sleep pants he wore and Dainty instantly sat up to help, reaching for his only semi aroused cock eagerly with both hands. 

The hard, blood engorged organ swelled at her touch, Cid just sitting and enjoying her ministrations, eyes closed and adoring the sensations for several moments.

She kissed him again as her hands worked, before sliding her lips to his bare shoulders and admiring all the planes of his muscles with her tongue. But she did not bite again, only rasping her teeth a little.

Cid was fully hard now and Dainty slid her hands up his chest to twine around his neck as his arms came around her, pulling her naked form against his.

“How do you want me?” Dainty purred into Cid’s ear as his lips found her throat and prompted a little shiver from her.

“I think I deserve my favorite.” Cid replied in a dark, wicked tone. He reached behind her to move her tail aside before guiding her gently to the bed, settling his weight on top of her when she splayed her legs open for him.

“You do.” Dainty agreed, limbal ringed eyes almost fully glowing with intensity and her voice husky. “You most certainly do.”

It wasn’t as if he was often denied is favorite, and if he was, it was by his own doing. 

Although Dainty tended to come on strong with him when initiating affection Cid had discovered that, once they were in bed, she had about a 6 malm long submissive streak.

The majority of the time it was Cid who controlled the pace and position of their love-making to both of their content. Dainty tended to be easy to please and giving him what he wanted pleased her most of all, so she would happily do as he desired.

Not wanting her tail to be uncomfortably crushed beneath them, and the fact that her stamina and energy levels as the Warrior of Light so vastly outstripped his own prompted Cid to straddle Dainty across his lap more often than anything else.

But this was not Garlemald, he had not been busy working all day leaving him tired and no one would begrudge him if he fancied a nap later in the afternoon to compensate for a poor nights sleeping followed by somewhat aggressively having his rather willing wife.

Knowing Dainty, she would curl right up with him.

He caught her small face with one hand, holding her chin to kiss her with one hand and guiding his cock to her entrance with the other. He knew she’d be wet by now and he was right.

Dirty talking alone was enough to get Dainty aroused, never mind his kisses and touches and letting her misbehave.

He pushed for entrance inside her body.

Cid tried to be gentle, aware that he was thicker than most, and she was petite, but she was pushing her hips forward eagerly, wanting him to go faster. He always under estimated just how much a sensation junkie she really was.

Dainty gave a little gasp as his thick cock was lodged entirely inside her.

He began to move, slow and hard the way she liked it, kissing her neck and listening the soft cries she didn’t even try to muffle.

“Cid…” Dainty moaned, dragging her nails down his arms, finding purchase to buck her hips to meet his thrusts.

Cid fully growled, teeth gritted against the sensation of her wrapped around him like liquid silk.

He thrust into her hard over and over and she gave a low, desperate keen that, when they were new to being intimate with one another, Cid had sometimes mistaken for pain. 

“They’re going to think I’m murdering you, you keep making that noise.” Cid teased, capturing her mouth in a kiss to silence her.

It was bad enough all of Ishgard thought him cold, stern and cruel to “Aurora.” He didn’t need them thinking he was also abusing her sexually.

“Gods!” Dainty flung her head back, relishing every onze of sensation as lightening danced down her limbs and her peak started to build in her core. “Hmmmmm if this…. be the way… I go I shall have…oh Gods….few complaints!”

She loved it when he got like this, when she didn’t have to encourage him to fuck her as hard as she liked it or reassure him that she could handle it.

She could just enjoy the sensations that coursed through her.

The bed made a tell-tale squeak in time to Cid’s pounding rhythm.

Dainty’s body throbbed all the way down to her tip toes. Her tight cunt clenched on him, spasming and milking his length, her peak building in her.

Her head half thrashed, side to side and she was rocking her hips disjointedly, meeting his rhythm with desperate little pants.

Cid ran his hands up her back, playing up and down her scales before settling on her hips again, pulling her onto him with enough force another woman might have tended up with bruises.

He had learnt her tells well and knew that she was knifes edge close to losing it.

Dainty’s entire body was shaking, fighting against the intensity of the stimulation before, all of a sudden, her entire body jolted, and clenched violently.

Her shriek muffled in the bedding and climax slammed through her hard enough to steal her breath. 

Her first release was usually quick, and rarely signaled the end of their love making but even still Cid couldn’t help but smile smugly as the Au Ra trembled and writhed, feeling her entire body twitch inside and out.

“You give me the worse ego, Dainty.”

“Mmmmm.” Was all Dainty managed, her hair sticking to her sweat slicked face and body. 

He leaned forwards a little, bracing himself over her with one arm, the other sliding beneath her hips to fully lift her off the bed and changing the angle at which his thick cock slid in and out of her tight body.

She dug her heels into the sheets, helping maintain that position and earning a full groan from Cid as he slid incredibly deeply inside her.

Soft, slightly shocked sounding little “oh..oh oh!’s” escaped her as he slowed but continued to move within her.

Dainty fully throbbed with pleasure, over sensitive enough that the blurring of pleasure and intense over stimulation at that angle was exquisite.

To an outside observer her noises might have sounded almost like half choked sobs but the Cid, who knew exactly how much they both enjoyed that particular position, it sounded like a symphony of carnal desire.  
She clung to him as best she could, cupping his bearded face with her hands, rubbing her hands down his neck and across his shoulders mindlessly.

Her touches helped distract him from the growing heat in his core and the familiar tightening of his balls a little, but not enough. Sometimes he could fight it down and give her another release but not today. 

She was too much, scratching her nails through his hair and gasping his name and he knew better than to try and speed her up with additional stimulation. She liked penetration or clitoral stimulation but never both at the same time.

He had made that mistake once.

“Dainty, I can’t…” Cid groaned between gritted teeth.

“Then don’t! Hmmm… Cid… do as you need…” Dainty encouraged, biting her lip and watching his face with eyes full of affection as climax ran away with him.

He was cumming inside her before she even finished speaking with a hoarse, guttural growl as his strength started to desert him. He managed to not drop her to the bed, lowering them both gently but that was where his limbs failed him, turning to jelly in release.

Dainty happily wrapped her arms around him, cuddling him tight and enjoying having his full weight crushing her to the bed.

She knew he loved the snugly afterglow best of all and, as Cid had observed the first day they met, a post orgasmic Dainty was a happy Dainty, and a happy Dainty was an affectionate Dainty, even above and beyond her normal levels of affection.

She ran her fingers through his hair and lavished him with kisses gleefully.

Cid reveled in it for several long moments before clumsily rolling off her, moving to his side and opening his eyes to look at the happy Au Ra.

Those perfect magenta and orange limbal ringed eyes looking back at him sweetly.

“I think you might need another shower.” Cid observed, taking a lock of her currently black hair and twisting a curl around his finger. They had gotten rather distracted while she was still in the process of taming it straight and the natural curls were attempting to burst free.

“So it seems.” Dainty grinned impishly. “You should join me.”


	6. Ishgard - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaius zos Baelsar is lucky he is the Emperor, because someone absolutely would have shot him in the face by now if he wasn't.  
> And that someone is probably Raubahn Aldynn.

While the Sultana, Nanamo Ul’Namo arrived in Ishgard with Flame General Raubahn Aldynn and a coterie of Immortal Flames with full escort by Ishgardian Dragoons and led in a procession to the Durendaire manner where the Starlight festivities were to be held Gaius zos Baelsar calmly strolled into Ishgard alone, somewhat as if he owned the place. 

He had visited once before, after all, with only Zenos yae Galvus as company and knew he had little to fear from the Elezen population of Foundation and how to navigate the frosty city.

Garlean visitors were also uncommon, but not rare in Ishgard. 

The Lord Commander received 1 or 2 petitions to be allowed to cross into foundation from Garlean citizens in Coerthas monthly. Most were sight-seers, Elezen who had been born in Imperial Occupied territories who had an interest in seeing the lands that their ancestors hailed from.

Occasionally a pure blooded Garlean came through, there was one currently studying the history and theory of Astrology at the Athenaenum Astrologicum, despite not being able to utilize his aether to wield magicks.

As Gaius wore no armor, only well-tailored Garlean formal wear beneath a heavy hooded jacket the hood of which was pulled low over his third eye, he appeared nothing more than an oddly, if expensively, attired Hyur. 

Those whose eye he happened to catch looked away again quickly. 

There was something about the man that made people's gaze not want to linger on him, finding it uncomfortable to do so.

Had they known he had once been granted a sliver of the Warrior of Light's Echo they might realize he were subconsciously capable of projecting his desire to remain unnoticed with that onze of power.

But they did not know, and Gaius himself knew almost nothing about the Echo save that it had granted him immunity from being tempered. He therefore congratulated himself, and his skills as a Soldier for being able the enter the city unwatched.

Most the interested parties were distracted with the pageantry of welcoming the Sultana anyway. Gaius was pleased to have avoided being welcomed in the same, extravagant manner.

The pomp and circumstance of Royal Life had never amused Gaius and he avoided it wherever he could.

His presence was marked only by Alisaie Leveilluer and the Frumentari, who instantly recognized, and saluted their Emperor and were promptly dismissed by him as he was looking to go unnoticed for as long as possible.

All except Alisaie. 

“I hope your remaining in disguise has not been too onerous.” Gaius offered from within the folds of his hood and Alisaie could hear smirk on his mouth. “No doubt Army barracks are far from comfortable compared to your usual accommodations.”

“While this is true, your Grace, I am finding the excess of free time a delightful change of pace. I have finished fully 3 novels I had been meaning to read for years. Frankly having such free time on my hands is a luxury I am not usually afforded, despite being possessed of a significantly more comfortable bed in Garlemald.” Alisaie agreed as the Starlight Parade, scheduled to start after Nanamo’s being welcomed to the city by Ser Aymeric, began to get underway.

The noise and spectacle helped disguise Gaius’ presence, and prevent eavesdropping of their conversation. 

A man waving a banner bearing a sigil of a Grey Dragon in a loving embrace with an Elezen woman opened the proceedings.

“I have a matter upon which I would have your counsel, Lady Leveilleur.”

Alisaie was not surprised to hear this.

When it came to Eorzean matters she and her brother were the closest thing to experts that Gaius had. No doubt he was looking for an angle which to use on Nanamo ul’Namo or advice upon a subject that he could use as an “in” to draw her into conversation. 

“Upon which subject may I assist you, your Grace?”

“Nero tol Scaeva. You are the one who loves him best, after all.”

“Love?! Are you out of your Godsdamn mind? I mean… forgive me… that was insulting to a man of your stature. I beg pardon most humbly, but I assure you, I do not love Nero tol Scaeva. Please, disavow yourself of such a notion! I should struggle to say I even like him 9 days out of 10!” the 17 year old stammered, face hot with indignity beneath her mask.

Other than her family the only thing she had ever felt love for was one of Dainty’s peach tarts but Gaius had not meant romantic love. 

He had recognized a similarity between the light teasing Alisaie gave her brother and the much more pronounced sass she gave Nero.

It reminded Gaius of his own interactions with Midas nan Garlond, once upon a time.

“Be that as it may, show me someone could else who could say they like him even 1 day out of 10. Show me anyone who holds any degree of affection for the man.” Gaius challenged and Alisaie found she could not.

She did consider Nero a friend and couldn’t think of anyone else who would do so. 

She thought perhaps Cid might loosely consider Nero a friend by now, if Nero would put his pride aside for long enough to communicate with the other Engineer.

Livia and Rhitahtyn, although they no doubt respected Nero, saw him ultimately as competition for Gaius’ favour.

Likewise she felt the soldiers whom Nero would command as Tribunus Laticlavus of the XIVth likely respected him but probably felt no true affection for him, and any of them would be glad to replace him at Gaius’ side.

“Only you, I suppose.” Alisaie said at length and the thought left her feeling incredibly sad.

“We are in agreement. You have heard of Livia and Rhitahtyn’s promotions, no doubt, yet I have granted nothing to Nero. Alisaie Levellieur, in your opinion, what should I do with my neglected Tribunus?”

Alisaie drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

Were it anyone else asking her she would think it a game, or just asking for advice that they might consider but ultimately not take very seriously. Gaius zos Baelsar, however, did not request advice lightly.

She had no mind for strategy or tactics the way Alphinaud did but had heard her brother and Gaius debating the future of Garlemald more than once. It was frankly Alphinaud’s favorite topic of late and often the Emperor would visit the Garlond Estate solely for the purpose of arguing a point with the “little Lordling”.

Alphinaud hated the nick-name, which only made Gaius use it more.

“I know what Nero wants. Power. We all know Nero wants to be named your Heir, but I also know what my brother would say.” Alisaie began. “That to place a Soldier and Engineer of Nero’s caliber in a diplomat’s role is a waste, and cruel besides. That the title of Crown Prince, although it affords prestige, no longer holds any of the power that so many men crave but my heart, since you have asked me in the capacity of “she who likes Nero other than yourself”.... my heart says to give Nero what he wants. That he deserves that, at least, for his loyalty.”

“Predictable.” Gaius commented. She had said exactly what he had expected that she would.

Alisaie rankled a little at the word, wishing she had Dainty’s knack for letting insults roll off her with a vacant expression.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Alisaie offered simply, clearly insulted.

Gaius was aware that his comment had been unkind but seeing no reason to apologize for uttering the truth. Perhaps it might inspire her to think more deeply upon a subject in the future.

He removed his jacket, handing it to Alisaie to deal with and touched a point on his shoulder.

What had appeared to be a simple clasp suddenly proving to be a concealed Magitek device and, in an instant, Gaius was clad in his armor, complete with horned helmet and white mask.

His pleasant, baritone voice distorted into a mechanical snarl.

“Summon the others and prepare to escort me. Tis time I joined the party.”

 

* * * * 

 

The unannounced arrival of the Emperor of Garlemald, flanked by 12 uniformed Frumentari troops caused something of a sensation amoung the finery clad guests.

Even though they knew he was due to attend the evening’s festivities none had expected him to arrive without anyone knowing it, making himself seem somehow supernatural for being able to sneak into Ishgard undetected, despite being the Emperor of Garlemald himself.

Cid and Dainty, lingering to the far side of the room in Count Durendaire’s lavish ballroom, watched the confusion unfold.

“Talk about making an entrance.” Dainty commented, sotto voice and earning a nod from Cid, who was glad from the momentary reprieve of looking stern and not talking to Dainty. 

“Is this quite normal?” Belle Haillenarte, standing next to Dainty, fretted as Gaius, fully armored, strode into the room as if he were about to give orders to have everyone rounded up and arrested.

“Perfectly. Be at ease, Belle.” Cid chuckled a little, before quickly correcting himself before anyone might notice his momentary good humor. Artoirel, lingering beside Belle, could only admire the Garlond’s collective acting abilities.

Their host that evening, Lord Charlemend de Durendaire was falling over himself to greet the Emperor appropriately.

The man had long been distrustful of outsiders however, he was not blind to the changing times.

The rumors that House Fortemps had recently endured would have left most in tatters. Edmont should have been socially shunned whilst ever he remained unable to prove that his base-born daughter was who she claimed to be.

Not only that but having begat a child with an Au Ra ought to have knocked the raven haired Elezen well out of public good opinion.

But Edmont Fortemps, although his word had been questioned, had not suffered too ill for Aurora’s presence in his life financially.

Not matter how people scoffed behind his back Edmont’s alliance with Garlemald, born by Aurora’s marriage, had netted him several lucrative trade deals with Garlean merchants looking to import Ishgardian novelties and at the end of the day, money talked louder than reputation did in Ishgard. 

The extensive upgrades being made to Camp Dragonhead, and Emmanellian being made its Commander had bought Edmont favor within the sphere of influence of his House, at least.

Lainette, calm, practical and with a keen eye for diplomacy had proven to be good for Emmanellian, who was so besotted with the woman that he did anything she asked without question. 

At her urging and planning Camp Dragonhead had quickly become the landing ground for any normal Garleans citizens looking to visit Ishgard in the wake of the alliance between Garlemald and the Holy See of Ishgard.

Charlemend wanted a portion of the honey pot of foreign wealth that Edmont was dipping into, especially now that all were certain Aurora Garlond really was nothing more than a base-born, Elezen/Au Ra hybrid and not the fabled Warrior of Light.

House Fortemps’ favor in Ishgard was likely to skyrocket and Charlemend aimed to either avert its course entirely in his favor, or go along for the ride.

Count Durendaire had resolved to support Ser Aymeric after the conclusion of the Dragonsong War, a pragmatic bid to retain influence and preserve some semblance of the status quo but now he was seeing he needed his own alliance with Garlemald to secure his grip.

That alone had been his motivation to host and bankroll the lavish Starlight parade and party where he might make an acquaintance of the Emperor of Garlemald.

A pretty Hyur woman with a tray of drinks approached Cid and Dainty with refreshments. 

Cid was drinking lager and Dainty enjoying champagne mixed with fruit juice. The woman gave a small curtsy, her tray balanced carefully, handing Cid his drink and then passing a flute to Dainty before her fingers slipped on the condensation on the side of the glass and she dropped it with a soft gasp.

The delicate crystal shattered instantly on the polished wooden floor boards. 

“Oh… oh dear..!” the woman lamented tears welling up in her gentle brown eyes. “That’s the third one this week, I’ll be beaten for certain!”

Dainty moved to help instantly, both women bending to the floor to gather the scattered pieces of crystal. The quicker the mess was cleaned the less the chance of Count Durendaire seeing the mistake and the woman being harshly punished for it. “Count Durendaire is having the bar over pour your drinks and there is to be a surprise guest. A former friend of the Warrior of Light. He hopes you will be drunk enough to betray yourself.”

“..beg pardon?” Dainty stiffened, unable to catch herself at these softly spoken words.

The woman’s voice had been pitched so low and she did not look up from her task of cleaning up the crystal that for a split-second Dainty thought she was imagining what she had just heard.

“My sister was one of the women Zenos assaulted. You avenged her honor when none else would.”

Cid noted Dainty’s discomfort, and that she lingered, helping the serving woman longer than was correct. He noted too instantly the way Raubahn Aldynn had been watching Dainty, hawk-like, all night.

“Really, Aurora. Where are your manners?” Cid snapped, anxious to allay the dark-skinned Ala Mhigan mans’ suspicions and protect Dainty. 

He reached down, snagging the Au Ra fluidly around the biceps and hauling her to her feet, his tone harsh and slightly sarcastic as he added; “Your kindness is admirable, _dear_ , but do recall servants exist for a reason? If you are so eager to be on your knees at least wait until we are alone tonight.”

“Y.yes Ser.” Her voice betrayed a faint wobble, as if she were desperately holding back tears in a convincing display of being absolutely mortified to be scolded so.

A small murmur of disapproval and tension filled the air by those standing near the couple, Belle and Artoirel playing the part by exchanging notable grimaces about the deplorable way Cid nan Garlond treated his wife.

Several present thought they ought to say something, base-born hybrid or no the woman was still Ishgardian and a daughter of the High Houses. Yet none dared speak in Aurora’s defense.

She was clad in a gown of finest Thavnairian silks, jewelry enough to make even the wealthiest Ishgardian woman jealous adorned her throat, hair and hands and yet not a single one of them envied her.

Nero, hidden in the shadows of the room as someone working as a bodyguard to a titled couple would, and despite his bitterness at being there in the first place, was desperately amused that almost the entirety of Ishgard considered Cid nan Garlond to be a bit of a bastard.

Nero had felt similarly for years after all. 

Not only that but his rescue of Belle Haillenarte had led many in Ishgard to seek Nero out to offer him their thanks. Artoirel Fortemps and Francel Haillenarte in particular had been incredibly effusive. 

No matter how much he disliked it Cid had thrown himself into playing the role of a cold hearted Garlean noble who did not value the young Eorzean wife he had been saddled with.

To do anything else would be to risk Dainty’s wellbeing and, despite his rather silly inability to tell her he loved her Cid would do just about anything to protect Dainty.

So far Ishgard had witnessed Cid nan Garlond tell Aurora sternly to go away when she wanted his attention. 

Seen him lob a coin purse at her feet and tell her to go shopping with Belle and mock her for "whatever frippery she filled her empty head with" when he wanted to investigate the Skysteel Manufactory with the newly instated Baron Stephanivien de Haillenarte.

Rumor was swirling out of the Fortemps Manor, flagged by nosy servants, that Aurora could be heard crying on a nightly basis. No doubt being abused by her husband who cared more about his own desires than her well being.

Dainty was only too delighted to spend all day supposedly crying to Belle Haillenarte about how her husband was mean to her, when in actual fact she was stocking up on custom made dresses and finery.

The tailors in Garlemald never did get the skirts right for her tail.

Cid had been glad for the idea to send Dainty shopping with Belle. 

It removed her from his company when out in public for the duration of their stay, lowering the amount of time he needed to be mean to her and it actually gladdened him to see Dainty enjoying the company of a similarly “girly” girl.

For all that Dainty was a steel eyed Warrior capable of slaying Primals she was exquisitely feminine, enjoying pretty dresses and jewelry and making herself up to look delicate and sweet. 

It was Belle that had taught her that there could be strength in being kind, and compassionate. That liking lace dresses didn’t make one weak any more than being rigidly unyielding made one strong. Being confident in oneself was far more powerful than stubborn pride.

Unfortunately, in Garlemald Dainty had no one who felt similarly with which to indulge in.

Alisaie found Dainty’s tastes to be boring, preferring the company of a good book above getting her hair styled and while Tartaru enjoyed some of the things Dainty did it was not nearly to the same level.

Belle, however, liked lace and flowers and gemstones just as much as Dainty did, not only that but Aurora was known to be wealthy by dint of her marriage, whereas the Haillenarte coffers had been mostly empty for years.

The Elezen beauty was more than happy to be spoiled with gifts of new dresses, hair ribbons and crystal inlaid slippers by her best friend.

Thanks in large part to Cid’s efforts the notion that Aurora and Dainty of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn being the same person had quickly become a joke to be openly laughed at within Ishgard.

Anyone that interacted with the soft spoken, quiet Aurora could see quite clearly that no Warriors heart beat within that gentle breast.

Those who had traveled similarly pointed out that she was fully too tall, and too well curved compared to other Au Ra to not be of mixed origin.

Those that witnessed the way Grand Minister Garlond treated his wife knew for absolute certain that a woman who ragefully slaughtered an entire private army of Brass Blades in Ul’Dah would never accept being scolded so crudely.

Raubahn Aldynn found his attention pulled away from the white haired Garlean man and his hybrid wife at the chilling sight of the Emperor of Garlemald, Gaius zos Baelsar, being introduced to Nanamo Ul’Namo by Ser Aymeric.

Hatred sizzled in Raubahn’s eyes despite how he had schooled himself to be prepared for this eventuality.

Gaius might be Emperor now, but he had once held a very different title. Viceroy of Ala Mhigo. Instigator of a Civil War and tyrant dictator of its subjugated peoples.

How many years had Raubahn dreamed of being in the same room as Gaius van Baelsar, the man’s neck within arm’s reach to the musclebound Gladiator?

“Good evening, your Radiance, a pleasure to meet you.” Nanamo curtseyed.

“Your Excellency.” Gaius bowed respectfully, knowing well how to talk the talk. “The pleasure is mine.”

Although he had been of common birth he knew well how to play the game of small talk, and diplomatic negotiations. In the end it was all just a matter of manipulation, and he had ever been an extremely manipulative man.

“Hmm, this will not do, you are entirely too tall.” The Lalafell was forced to crane her neck to look up at Gaius as he was forced to crane his to look down at her. “Raubahn?”

The man instantly moved forwards, lending the Sultana his arm and she sat upon the crook of it. When Raubahn rose she was hefted to his height, putting her at eye level with the armor clad Gaius.

“Please forgive my unconventional perch, your Grace, I find it more dignified than a ladder.”

“You will hear no complaint from me, your Highness. Let us put aside formality.” Gaius concurred, a touch of the device of his shoulder so that his armor would retract in a blink and leaving him in the concealed formal attire.

He smirked a little, hearing whispers of astonishment at the way his armor had disappeared behind him. They need not know the run time on the device was nearly exhausted anyway. Nero never had managed to extend it beyond a handful of minutes.

Gaius took a glass of deep red wine from the tray of a passing server, observing lightly to Nanamo; “Although I fear you are selling yourself _short_ to imply a ladder could dim your Noble aura.”

Gaius chuckled at his own joke, then added. “Excuse me, that was undignified.”

“Tee hee, no, no, please do not apologize. I am short. Even for a Lalafell!” Nanamo giggled, relieved to hear the quick joke as small talk had never been her forte.

She knew Raubahn was quietly seething at her easy discourse with the man who enslaved his homeland, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

A new set of Monetarists were on the rise in Ul’Dah, despite the Uprising having cleaned out several of the most corrupt members of the Uldian ruling party. 

Nanamo knew she was losing her grip a little more every day. Her words lost weight every time they ignore her, and she lacked the power to impose consequences upon them. Ul’Dah knew all too keenly what happened when the Monetarists got above themselves.

The city would never be clean of the stain of that night.

The murders of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and the Warrior of Light’s vengeful rage.

Alisaie smiled into her mask as Gaius’ joke almost instantly disarmed the Sultana.

He was a charming man when he wanted to be, Alisaie was not in the slightest bit surprised at how easily he had sweet-talked a giggle from Nanamo.

“This is Raubahn Aldynn, Flame General of the Immortal Flames, Ul’Dah’s premier Grand Company and Ala Mhigan by birth.” Nanamo made introductions curious to see how Gaius would react to coming face to face with the consequences of his actions as a Legatus socially.

Gaius swirled the glass he was given, savoring the scent of the high-quality wine before taking a mouthful elegantly.

“Well met, General. I’ve fond memories of Ala Mhigo.” There was more than a little taunt to Gaius’s tone and it earned him the faintest of snarl from Raubahn before the other man could suppress it. 

Gaius could practically see the rage vibrating off the dark-skinned man. It reminded him of Nero and amused the Emperor deeply before he took another sip of wine and offered laconically; “I have no doubt you will be as curious as I to see how Livia van Junius manages the hand over.”

“I beg your pardon, your Grace? I do not follow?” a deep frown darkened Raubahn’s brow only prompting further taunting from Gaius.

“The Resistance has murdered the current Viceroy and I have dispatched the XIVth, helmed by my most loyal Tribuni, to the region to sort matters out.”

Panic lanced down Raubahn’s spine. He had not known. He tried to keep abreast of the situation in his homeland as best his could but preparing for the trip to Ishgard had dominated his time of late. 

His pulse quickened with fear for his son, Pipin, who was currently stationed on the Ala Mhigan frontlines.

Gaius let the man stew in his fear for several moments, toying with him before adding; “Bloodshed is to be kept to a minimum if at all possible, of course. There is no point plotting to hand control of the country back to its population, as I did Doma, if there is no population left. Would you not agree, General?”

“Do you mean to do that soon?” Nanamo squeaked, surprised by the man’s candor and unsure what to make of it.

He seemed so good natured and easy going she was having trouble reconciling that this well-mannered, articulate, charming man was the Emperor of the undeniably brutal Imperial Empire. 

“Just as soon as Livia van Junius assesses the situation and brings me a suitable plan.” Gaius agreed, draining his glass.


	7. Ishgard- Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Durendaire's plots come to fruition and a familiar face makes Cid lose his manners.

“Ladies and Gentleman, Garleans, Ul’dians and Ishgardians, it is my very great pleasure to announce that I have a surprise for you….” 

It took every inch of Dainty’s willpower not to start shaking as Count Durendaire’s blithe announcement. Having been warned that someone the Warrior of Light called a friend was due to attend Dainty’s mind had instantly started running through the names of Scions who had not been safe at Vesper Bay.

Those that were yet unaccounted for.

“The famed Songstress of Ul’dah, F’lhaminn Qesh has agreed to come out of retirement for one performance only and delight us with a rendition of For Whom The Starlight Bell Tolls.”

Dainty felt her heart lodge in her throat, every instinct cried out to instantly rush the stage set area at sight of the pretty white haired Miqo’te that moved gracefully into the room. 

F’lahminn was attired elegantly in a velvet dress of purple that picked up a similar shade in her pale pink eyes and made her creamy skin seem even paler.

Her white hair and the fur of her feline ears and tail seemingly shot through with moonlight by the flattering candle light of the room.

Instead Dainty turned only as the others did, affixing an interested, if vague smile on her features, her hand still tucked into Cid’s arm as if she was not allowed to leave his side. 

But her pulse pounded as F’lahminn began to sing the hymn. Of all the potentials Dainty had not considered F’lahminn, assuming her not to have survived the massacre of their numbers.

F’lahminn had been in Ul’Dah with Tartaru the night of the Uprising and the last anyone had seen the beautiful, white haired woman was when she had told Tartaru to run as Brass Blades had swarmed the market.

Tartaru had made it safely to the Airship Landing and been born to safety by Biggs and Wedge and F’lahminn had not been seen since.

Dainty desperately longed the throw back the entire contents of her drink to settle herself but knew to do so would be folly.

She had been handed a new drink and now that the mischief with her cocktails had been pointed out Dainty could taste that there was more than just champagne and pineapple juice in the glass.

A potent pineapple liquor had been mixed in as well, so skillfully she would never had picked it up had she not been forewarned.

The Warrior of Light was renowned for having an alcohol tolerance few could rival.

No doubt Count Durendaire was also figuring that seeing Aurora failing to get black out drunk off the overly strong drinks would be excellent, if circumstantial evidence that Aurora was Dainty.

Such heavily intoxicating drinks would no doubt be far too powerful for the gentle teenager Aurora was supposed to be. 

Cid could see that Dainty was practically jumping out of her skin, no matter how calm she looked to those who did not know her well. Her grip on her glass so tight he feared it might shatter in her hands.

Cid gently pried the champagne flute from her fingers while those around them were distracted with F’lhaminn’s ethereal voice and graceful movements.

Dainty had managed to softly convey to him that her drinks were spiked, and why without breaking character and Cid felt it was high time to do something about it. 

He recalled the time his Father had recounted a funny incident wherein Cid’s Mother had expressed her displeasure in a rather over dramatic fashion and elected to take a page from her playbook.

Cid nan Garlond stalked over to Count Durendaire and tossed the entirety of Dainty’s drink directly into the Elezen man’s face.

“You may leave my wife out of your pathetic politics and attempts to discredit her House, Count Durendaire.” Cid hissed between his teeth as a method not to burst out with laughter at the horrified expression Count Durendaire now wore.

“Something the matter, Minister Garlond?” Count Edmont de Fortemps frowned as people started to stare at the liquor-soaked Count Durendaire.

Many were still distracted by the entertainment but enough noticed Cid’s actions.

“This idiot has been having Aurora served drinks that might poison a grown Roegadyn, no doubt knowing a teenager would have no clue what she was truly drinking.” Cid accused, eyes narrowed at Durendaire. “Do you dare deny it? I do not believe any of us will fail to smell just how much liquor was in the drink you now wear. A drink that was supposed to be nothing more than harmless champagne watered down with juice.” 

F’lahminn’s song was drawing to a close and the sounds of applause prevented further irate words.

Cid stormed back over to Dainty in fake fury and she swayed a little when she reached for his arm, as if significantly more intoxicated than she ought to be.

“Really, Charlemend?” Edmont Fortemps snickered, holding up a quizzing glass to examine the damp Lord Durendaire. “Any idiot can see Aurora and Dainty are not the same person, yet you pull such a stunt in front of our visiting dignitaries? For shame.”

Count Durendaire’s mouth opened and closed several times, however no defense for his actions sprang easily from within. 

He had not expected to be publicly exposed. It had not occurred to the narrow-minded Count for a moment that the visiting Garleans would not observe the Ishgardian manner of resolving such issues and slights behind closed doors.

“You are correct, Lord Fortemps.” F’lahminn Qesh spoke softly moving across the room towards the Au Ra that she had been told was possibly the Warrior of Light now that she had taken her bows.

Dainty looked at her hazily, feigning being too drunk to focus on her.

Several people were highly interested by F’lahminn’s words. 

They all knew that, although she was not technically a Scion herself, she had been involved with the organization and interacted with the Warrior of Light on a daily basis.

F’lahminn drew close to the couple, bowing gracefully to Cid and, when he gave a nod she gently reached out to cup “Aurora’s” face with both hands looking searchingly into her pretty, scaled features for several long moments before gently offering. “Your eyes are so soft, Lady Garlond. You resemble her closely, no one can deny that you do but _her_ eyes were so cold. Nothing like yours at all.”

“Agreed.” Raubahn rumbled, having moved close to hear F’lahminns words and finding that they ran parallel to his own. “I wish she were the Warrior of Light so that I might thank her for my life and that of my Sultana. And so that I could apologize for Eorzea failing her so utterly. Unfortunately, it would seem my son was correct when he spoke of seeing the Warrior of Light throw herself from the walls of Ul’Dah. A fall none could survive. Not even her. A sandstorm raged that night, tis the sad truth her body has been entombed by the desert sands and nothing more.”

“I am taking Lady Garlond back to Garlemald and away from this idiocy immediately. If she vomits on anything you will hear about it, Count Durendaire.” Cid snipped, glaring at Raubahn as if angered that another man was speaking of his wife without his permission. 

He took Dainty by one arm and fully pulled her from the room, leading several people to once again wince at the way poor Aurora Garlond was treated by her husband. 

A more dignified gentleman might have put an arm around his wife’s waist and kindly escorted her, rather than pulling her like an object.

F’lahminn watched them go, no doubt planning to return to the large Garlean transport ship she had witnessed landing when she entered the city. Although she had been invited the stay and partake of the festivities after her performance F’lahminn no longer had the heart for it. 

She could not deny her heart had leapt when she first locked eyes on Lady Garlond, thinking her Dainty immediately, only for her hopes to be dashed when she realized her mistake.

_One more Scion to grieve._

 

* * * * 

 

There was only one private room on the Emperor’s personal airship, although Cid knew he could get away with claiming it for himself and Dainty, where as anyone else would earn Gaius’ ire for doing so.

He knew damn well he was the Emperor’s favorite.

They had always intended to depart via the ship that evening and their luggage was already on board, and placed in the private room, suggesting Gaius had fully expected the married couple to reside there during the flight home while he remained in the upper travel area with Nero and Alisaie.

It was not an untoward assumption.

Cid and Dainty were well known to enjoy their private time as a married couple and Gaius had ever been amused that the Engineer and the Eikon Slayer had managed to find a horizontal common ground.

“I need to get a message to F’lahminn without exposing myself or Alisaie.” Dainty hovered nervously, torn between settling in to wait and going back outside.

“I am a step ahead of you. I already figured no one is likely to pay Nero much mind now that Gaius is in attendance. If he were to suddenly disappear with your friend I doubt anyone would even notice. You will owe him the key to Azys Lla though.”

“If he brings me F’lahminn I will put a bloody bow on it for him!!!”

Cid smiled at Dainty’s outburst, moving to the communications console as Dainty changed out of her heavy pretty gown into something more comfortable to travel in.

She sat on one of the plush seats beginning to unwind the strings of pearls from her darkened hair.

The room was well appointed and designed to make traveling long distances as comfortable as possible for the Emperor but still she jittered nervously.

His task complete, and having gotten a surprisingly unargumentative affirmative from Nero, Cid moved to sit beside her and raised a hand to her currently black hair, stroking his fingers through its straightened length gently as she smiled at him, grateful for his quick thinking. 

“This isn’t permanent, right?” Cid questioned, curling a lock of her raven dark hair his finger and missing the way her curls would twist around his fingers. 

“No, when we return to Garlemald I will go to my favorite Salon and have them restore the curls and mint green colour.” Dainty assured him. She was not a fan of the current stylings of her hair either, but it had been a necessary evil. 

Cid almost requested she have her hair dyed to her natural blonde but changed his mind.

She was aware he wished to see her natural color, voicing it yet again would only annoy her and make her dig her heels in more about not displaying it.

“Dainty?” Cid began, blue eyes watching her face very closely, a small frown on his handsome features. “Did you actually jump from the walls of Ul’Dah, not expecting to survive?”

At first Cid had assumed Raubahn’s words a cover, that the Ala Mhigan man was aware of Dainty’s identity and protecting her but the more Cid thought of it the more genuine Raubhan’s words had seemed.

There was a pain in Raubahn’s voice when he had spoken the line: "A fall none could survive. Not even her."

Cid realized now she had never mentioned how she had left Ul’Dah after slaughtering so many on its stones. He knew there was a rebellion of the Ala Mhigan refugees as they took advantage of Dainty’s murderous rage to loot the city, hence why the event was known as the Ul’Dah Uprising.

He knew too the rumors that Dainty had merely dropped her axe and walked from the City, her exit hidden by the chaos of the Immortal Flames lead by Pipin Taurpin trying to put the city back into order and Nanamo’s control.

But Cid did not know what actually happened.

Dainty spoke of it what occurred in Ul’Dah only occasionally and referred to events in Ishgard but had never connected the doted lines of how she got from one place to the other.

Knowing her grief over what happened to her friends and fellow Scions that night Cid had never pressed, just as she never asked him about his Father unless he wished to volunteer the information.

Dainty’s lips twitched, and she took his hand from where it was playing with her hair, guiding it to her cheek and resting her head against his palm gently. She was comforted best by touch.

“I did.” Dainty admitted, voice dark. They were speaking of a rather morbid topic, after all. “And Raubahn is correct, I would not have survived but I did not do it for the reasons most would think. I was not suicidal in my grief and rage so much as I realized my Blessing, over-powered by my anger, was draining Hydaelyn dangerously. I was not seeking death so much as to return my aether to the Mother Crystal, strengthening her and enabling her to empower someone new. 

The ancient wyrm Midgardsormr, however, had other ideas. He used what little of his power remained to bare me to the ground safely and blocked me from the Blessing, teaching me how to do the same should the need ever arise. Having thus fulfilled a covenant with Hydaelyn made eons ago he ordered me to join the chorus of the Dragonsong War before returning to slumber. In doing so he managed to remind me that the realm needed me yet.”

Cid breathed out heavily, he knew what she was, and her responsibilities to the star and had long vowed to support her always but sometimes it was easy to forget the true scope of those commitments.

She spent her days baking pies and planting gardens. It was sometimes hard to reconcile that this delicate little woman, who won awards for growing roses, was also the same person who was tasked with protecting the entire realm.

Cid knew who Midgardsormr was, the wyrmking’s victory over the invincible Agrius, flagship of the Eorzean Invasion force, was what caused Gaius van Baelsar to lose favor with Solus zos Galvus, allowing Nael van Darnus to rise in influence and earn himself permission to utilize Project Meteor to subjugate Eorzea and ultimately leading to the Calamity.

Gaius bitterness over this and increasing desperation to regain the lost favor had been the catalyst for his and Cid’s argument regarding Gaius’ honor and laid the setting stones of the path that would lead Gaius van Baelsar to usurp the Garlean Throne and become Emperor of Garlemald.

Midgardsormr was supposedly slain in that pyrrhic victory at Silvertear Lake, although evidently some of his essence remained to save would-be suicidal Warriors of Light.

“I cannot imagine the state Garlemald would be in had you been successful that night, and, selfishly, I cannot imagine the state I would be in if I had never met you, my little…wife…dammit, sorry.”

Cid scowled at himself, still fumbling over the world love. He wasn’t sure why his tongue turned into a slug in his mouth when he tried address her as such.

Dainty moved forwards in her seat with a gentle smile, resting her arms on his shoulders and looking up at him. 

“I don’t need you to say it, Cid. You show me you love me a hundred ways, every single day. Your actions scream your love for me so eloquently. You hated every minute of it here in Ishgard but you did it for me and the Fortemps so diligently.”

“I thought I was laying it on a bit too thick a couple times there.”

“No, you were perfect! Throwing my drink on Count Durendaire was _genius_!" Dainty giggled. "No one will ever question again why Edmont saw not hide nor hair nor letter from me after I left ever again. My “awful” husband clearly would not let me.”

“I’m not awful.” Cid pouted.

As much as Nero was delighted that Ishgard thought Cid terrible Cid was dismayed by it, even though he understood why it had been necessarily. He gave her a gentle smile. “I am just relieved it was all an act. I cannot fathom how uncomfortable this would have been if you had been her, Aurora, and not you, Dainty.”

Dainty smiled in kind, curling herself sweetly into his arms as they closed around her body tightly.

She fit so perfect, her gentle weight on his lap and arms twined around his neck. Cid couldn’t exactly describe how his heart had seized up for a moment when she admitted she had attempted to kill herself, despite the fact that she was fine now and her explanations.

What if she had perished long before he met her?

He couldn’t fathom it. She belonged in his life so utterly that trying to picture it with her absent was now impossible. 

“You would have been so beautifully gentle with her.”

“I wouldn’t have touched her with a 10 malm bloody pole. Married or not, 16 is 16.” Cid retorted with absolute finality. “I would have beautifully sent her ass to Magitek School, as any child in the Empire ought to be.”

“I meant after.” Dainty laughed at that and leaned up to capture his mouth in a tender kiss. “After she was grown. After you were sure she wanted you. After she had absolutely fallen in love with this kind man she now called husband.”

She refused to believe for a second any woman wouldn’t fall in love with Cid as she had. Cid gave a small laugh and trying to distract her from her imaginary scenarios with kisses.

He always got a little twitchy when she spoke of love, he liked hearing her say it but was still palpably aware that he didn’t. Although not for lack of trying.

“I love you, my one.” Dainty murmured against his mouth, running her hands through his hair and scruffing at his beard a little with teasing fingers.

“Your one what?” Cid questioned.

She seemed to have an endless repertoire of affectionate names to call him. “My one” was new and confused him a little. He had a vague inkling she was referring to the fairy tale notion of True Love, which would have been oddly sappy for Dainty.

She could be sweet and kind and affectionate, but she didn’t generally buy into the mythologic such as Soulmates, or Fate or Destiny.

Although she believed in the Twelve, as most Eorzeans did, and considered herself a follower of Rhalgr, the Destroyer, she didn’t subscribe to the notion that that deity had predesigned her life for her. 

“The one person I have chosen to be with. My one favorite person in the world.” Dainty giggled, snuggling in a little tighter and Cid smiled at her explanation.

She had always been afraid to love as wholly as she loved Cid.

Holding herself in reserve with the Scions, not letting deeper friendships develop than surface level affections, she liked them well enough to share a drink, or a meal, or even a bed but still kept her heart at arm’s length.

She thought it better that way, afraid of what might be provoked of her if she did love the Scions and saw them harmed. She was not sure she could withstand losing them, as she very well might in their line of work, if she allowed herself to care for them fully.

In the end, her stoicism had been for nothing.

Their deaths had provoked the very rage she feared and had sought to circumvent. 

She ought to have loved the Scions with abandon. The result would have likely been the same but at least then she would not have been plagued with regrets.

Dainty would always regret ducking Yda’s hugs or giving only vague answers when Minfilia offered to help her tend to her curls. 

She would not make that same mistake with Cid. 

It was entirely possible that some day he might be taken from her or used against her as the Warrior if Light in some way, but she would do everything in her power to prevent that and, if she could not, at least she would never have to fear him unaware of how much she loved him.

“My one favorite person.” Cid agreed, kissing her deeply.

He couldn’t get his mouth around “love”, but he could manage “my one” in echo of hers. That was not scary to say, she most absolutely was his favorite person. 

Dainty ran her hands through Cid’s hair tenderly, sipping at his lips as he broke the kiss to reach for the buttons of her blouse.

Dainty gave a soft giggle as Cid’s mouth left hers and pressed against her neck, drawing his tongue teasing up her pulse and scales. It was unusual for Cid to be that forward, generally it wasn’t until she reached for his clothing, or in some other way-initiated sex that it occurred to him she wanted more than snuggles and kisses.

She gave a little tremble, giving his shoulders a little scratch with her nails as passion started to run away with her;

“While I will never complain when you come over demanding like this, is this location wise?”

"Why not? The airship can't depart without Gaius on board and he was deep in conversation with Nanamo ul’ Namo and Godbert Manderville at several points during the evening. He will not be keen to leave early if he is successfully striking a good rapport with the Sultana and one of the Monetarists of Ul’Dah." Cid’s fingers stroked against her scales. "It is a better use of the time than jittering out your skin until Nero purloins your friend for you."

Dainty gave a laugh, eyes lidding in amusement and passion.

"Very true."

"Besides, how often does one have opportunity to have sex in the Emperor of the Imperial Empire’s personal airship?" Cid teased and Dainty laughed.

He was entirely correct. There was no chance of their being interrupted or over-heard, the cocktail party would continue a few more hours yet. 

Plenty of time for them to enjoy one another.


	8. The Price of Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero discovers Gaius has been plotting. And does not like it.

“F’lahminn Qesh?”

“Yes?”

She turned to look up at the crimson armor clad _thing_ that seemed to materialize out of the darkness at her, pushing down the small lick of fear that crawled up her spine at being snuck up upon.

How did someone in that much armor move to stealthily?

Perhaps she had just been so deeply lost in morbid thoughts, remembering friends long lost, that she had not heard him approach and the falling snow likely drowned out much of the sound of his approach.

“This part of Ishgard leads to the Brume, a very rough area, may I escort you somewhere more appropriate for a woman alone at this time of night?” Nero offered, voice distorted by his helmet and hoping she would agree to go with him. Then he could take her to the Emperor’s personal transport ship without delay.

They were waiting on him to join them and Gaius had warned him not to take too long on his errand or risk being left behind.

“Oh, no thank you, I shall be fine.” F’lahminn replied, giving a graceful Eorzean salute and turning away.

She’d been roaming the city all night without any issues, bundled up in a heavy woolen cloak that concealed her identity. 

The Saint Reinette Forum by moonlight had been quite pretty and the artist in F’lahminn had appreciated the gothic architecture of the massive Cathedral, wreathed in Starlight decorations, at Ishgard’s heart.

Still, nothing could ever fully counter the deep, lonely longing in her heart. 

She had stomped it down for a time but seeing Lady Garlond, who resembled Dainty so keenly, had brought up a veritable tsunami of grief for F’lahminn upon realizing she must add yet one more name to the list of those lost that day in Ul’Dah.

She had assumed Dainty to be alive, somewhere out there with Alisaie and Alphinaud and had clung to the hope that she might once again be needed by someone. 

Minfilia may have been an adult at the time of her death but F’lahminn had enjoyed easing the Antecendant’s woes with an expertly cooked meal.

She liked rising each morning, much earlier than the others, to brew coffee with chicory root and licorice, just the way Minfilia liked it and know that her daughters’ day was made a little bit better for F’lahminn’s efforts.

When it became obvious the Scions, and by extension Minfilia, needed a second receptionist to help Tataru as their numbers increased F’lahminn had been happy to step into that role.

She wanted to be a Mother again, if she were honest with herself.

For months she had been traveling, desperately seeking any of the Scions that remained and finding only emptiness. The Warrior of Light was utterly missing, Minfilia, Thancred, Yda and Papalymo were buried at the Lichyard of Saint Adama Landama.

F’lahminn knew Tartaru had survived and had helped her bury those dead Scions. After the Lalafell had vanished shortly after Alisaie Levailleur was arrested in Limsa Lominsa F’lahminn had been understandably wary about setting foot on Eorzean shores.

After that teenager disappeared from Lominsan custody, presumably smuggled back to Sharlayan by mercenaries hired by her wealthy family, the trail had gone cold on any other Scion for F’lahminn.

Nero tol Scaeva had figured that would be F’lahminn’s answer, watching her turn away, clearly very distracted by her thoughts. Fortunately, he had always had a contingency plan.

All in a rush F’lahminn felt her hooded cloak snatched and twisted firmly around her body, locking her arms firmly in place and she was hauled up and over the armor clad Garlean’s shoulder before she could react.

He moved far quicker than something armored ought to be able too.

“Don’t scream.” Nero warned, one hand locked over the back of her thighs and tail to prevent her from flailing in an attempt to free herself.

He was mostly sure he had managed to catch F’lahminn alone but did not wish to risk dropping Dainty’s name, just in case. In Ishgard one could never be who might be lurking in the shadows to over-hear them, especially in this part of the city.

Nero turned fluidly, movements uninhibited despite the application of the Miqo’te over his shoulder. She seemed to have completely frozen in shock, shaking faintly but otherwise making no attempt to free herself as Nero moved swiftly through the city.

Her vision obscured by her hood F’lahminn had no idea where she was being taken, although she could assume it was to the Garlean transport ship.

Her breathing was quick and panicked but she knew better than to try to fight for her freedom.

She was no match for a Garlean General, even as a younger woman and part of an adventurers group the most dangerous adversary she was ever capable of facing was a slightly irritated goobue. 

It was also not the first time the famed Songstress of Ul’Dah had been kidnapped.

In her line of work, and with her renown beauty she had earned herself an obsessive admirer or two that refused to take “no” for an answer from the Miqo’te or believed themselves entitled to her songs alone.

If she were to escape this with her life she would need to play along until guards were lowered.

Right now, her kidnapper would be on high alert and able to counter any move she made but he was still a hyuran being.

At some point he would need to sleep or eat.

At some point he would grow complacent, thinking her unwilling to fight back and only then would she make her bid for freedom. 

She felt the armor-clad man’s body shift, his pauldrons digging painfully into her gut, as he walked up heavy metallic stairs. His footfalls ringing with each movement.

There was a hiss of powered doors sealing themselves closed, confirming F’lahminn’s suspicions she had been taken to the Garlean transportship. This would make escape more difficult, but she was not the easy prey they thought she were.

She had evaded capture and being recognized in Eorzea for 5 long years, always keeping one step ahead of those who might use her against Minfilia. She was not as helpless as they might assume.

“And here I thought you had moral codes against that sort of thing.” Gaius snorted in amusement as Nero set his Miqo’te object down on the floor of the transport ship. 

As Tribunus Laticlavus he was entitled to travel in the much more luxurious and comfortable Captains Quarters with the Emperor, rather than in the economy decks below with the rest of the Frumentari.

F’lahminn raised her hand to her hood, pulling it back to get a good look at her captors and found the Emperor of Garlemald smirking at her. “Then again, I do know what they say about Miqo’te’s. Although you could have picked a less obvious one.”

“She is not for me.” Nero snapped, struggling to keep his temper.

He had always had incredibly black and white views when it came to consent, particularly the lack there of. It was this hard-line stance, along with his tendency to prioritize work above dating that had earned Nero his reputation within the XIVth for being coldhearted and uncaring for female company.

Gaius might have been completely fine with the idea of women being abducted for whatever purpose their captors wanted to use them for, but Nero was not.

“F’lahminn!” Alisaie cried joyfully, joining the Emperor and Nero in the room having shed her signifiers disguise.

F’lahminn, still sitting on the floor where she had been ungracefully set turned at her name, and did a double take to see the slender, white haired Elezen teenager who crossed to her side, dropping to her knees to embrace F’lahminn.

In her signifiers attire Alisaie had heard Cid requesting Nero snatch the woman, and had therefore been reconciled she needs not attempt to get a hidden message to F’lahminn as they would be reunited soon.

“A..alisaie?!” F’lahminn stammered, a million chaotic thoughts careening through her head all at once. 

Relief that she was with a friend, then sudden fear that Alisaie had been kidnapped too and being heart-broken for the teenager to be subjected to whatever these Garlean's planned for them, confusion at where Alisaie had appeared from.

“Yes, yes, 'tis me. You are safe and with friends.” Alisaie promised, rising and holding out her hands to draw F’lahminn to her feet, then smiling at Nero. “Thank you, Nero, for collecting her.”

“Log mark the date and time. Alisaie Leveilluer said “thank you, Nero” without being reminded of her manners.” Nero sassed. 

“Oh shut up, Nero.” Alisaie gave him a glare, before looking back to F’lahminn, all smiles.

“Besides, it is Dainty’s thanks not yours I want.” He had not forgotten the prize of Azys Lla for even an ilm.

“….Dainty?” F’lahminn questioned, blinking large pink eyes at Alisaie, realizing that her belief that the Au Ra at the party was not Dainty was wrong.

The rumor that the Warrior of Light had sought protection in Garlemald under a new identity, the most outlandish and ill-believed rumor, was the one that was the truth. “But… I thought…”

“It is true. Aurora Garlond is Dainty and everyone here is well aware of it.” Alisaie laughed, drawing F’lahminn to take a seat comfortably. “Did you really buy her act?”

“Yes!” F’lahminn insisted firmly. “T’was no lie on my part. Fully I looked into her eyes and saw a stranger staring back at me.”

“It’s a good thing the songbird is pretty, cos she ain’t smart.”

“Shut up, Nero! You bought Dainty’s act at first too, don’t pretend you didn’t!” Alisaie retorted hotly. “Although it is incredible to think she fooled even you, F’lahminn and it would follow then that Raubahn’s denials were also genuine. I wonder if perhaps she is subconsciously using the Echo to augment her acting abilities. For no matter how talented Dainty unarguably is it is remarkable to think she fooled even you!”

“A sound theory indeed, and lends credence to my own suspicions as to how Zenos so vastly underestimated her to his error the day she took his head.” Gaius rumbled.

He had had his fair share of Count Durendaire’s very good wine and was feeling quite at his leisure. Nanamo Ul'Namo had been most receptive to the notion of an alliance between Garlemald and Ul'Dah, to Gaius' deep satisfaction.

“May I see her? Is she onboard?” F’lahminn asked softly, anxious to look at the Au Ra again and this time see a friend reflected in Dainty’s eyes.

“Weeeellll, I would fetch her…” Alisaie began reluctantly “….but she’s abed with Cid and we all know not to disturb that pair when the disappear together.”

“Oh! Yes, her awful husband. Was that all an act too?” F’lahminn questioned as Nero started laughing at Cid being described as awful.

“And then some. It was Cid who softened Dainty’s eyes. The marriage was originally arranged but is now best described as….”

“Codependent, nauseating and distasteful.” Nero chimed in, earning him a glare from Alisaie before she sighed.

“I can’t actually deny that. Alphinaud and I originally intended to return to Sharlayan after we were reunited with Dainty but the fact remains that she has declared Cid, and Garlemald her home and will not be parted from them.”

Nero opened his mouth but was instantly silenced by Gaius barking;

“Quiet, Nero.” 

Gaius gave Nero a long, level look out of the corner of his eyes and the blond gave a snarl before he could contain it, folding his arms and slumping in his seat, suitable chastised for criticizing Gaius’ favorite person and the marriage that had gone so well.

Nero hated being treated like a dog by Gaius and it happened entirely too often for his tastes.

Admittedly in recent years people calling him “the Emperor’s lapdog” did so more carefully and checked over their shoulders before doing so but the insult was still used entirely too often for Nero’s tastes.

Livia and Rhitahtyn having been promoted so favorably above himself would no doubt also bring the insult back with abandon.

“Do you know if anyone else survived?” F’lahminn asked softly, feeling sorry for the now petulant looking Nero.

He was clearly friends with Alisaie for the way the Elezen fired back to his quips and jabs without taking the slightest lick of offense to them. Alisaie had always had a tart tongue and her sassery seemed reflected and complimented in Nero to F’lahminn’s eyes.

“Tartaru is with us in Garlemald, along with Alphinaud as I mentioned. Urianger, Arenvald, Coultnet and the others at Vesper Bay also survived.”

“They did? I went to Vesper Bay, the building was destroyed and I thought…”

“An illusion of Uriangers’ doing. He warded it after the initial attack so that our adversaries would think themselves successful but everyone inside was unharmed.”

“Oh.” F’lahminn murmured, feeling silly at having not investigated the facilities at the Waking Sands more fully. She had been so worried about someone recognizing her as one of the Scions, the climate in Eorzea for the company was still that of suspicion as they believed the Scions to be purposefully withholding the Warrior of Light from them. 

F’lahminn had therefore had not wanted to reveal herself unduly.

Once she saw the building in ruins she had simply turned around and taken a carriage to her next location. “But I will see Dainty when we land, will I not?”

“Yes, of course, F’lahminn” Alisaie laughed a little. “The Scions of the Seventh Dawn within Garlemald operates out of the Garlond Estates. You’ll be living with her, unless you wish to return to Eorzea ere we land.”

“No, there is nothing for me there. I go where Dainty is, it is what Minfilia would have wanted me to do.”

 

* * * * 

 

Gaius was standing in the Gardens of the Summer Palace when Nero arrived, clad in full armor, his helmet tucked under his arm. 

The Emperor had just been pondering how quiet it was with Livia van Junius departed for Ala Mhigo. He was not entirely sure he liked it. 

The woman felt her emotions in way that befuddled the cold, reserved Gaius, which led to expressions of despair and delight equally and constantly through-out the day.

He frequently snarled at her to shut up but now that her voice was absent he found he missed it, and was rather curious at himself for doing so.

Nero offered a crisp imperial salute as Gaius turned to look at him. His war axe, Mjolnir at his back, a standard issue gunblade at his hip.

Every inch a solider, to the last.

Alphinaud and by extension Alisaie were right, Gaius was well aware of it.

To award Nero the title of Crown Prince would be an utter waste.

Not only did Gaius fully intend to beget an Heir in the near future, robbing Nero of the title only recently earned but the man belonged on a battlefield, beside other soldiers, beside the magitek warmachina that he himself had built.

Once upon a time to be Crown Prince would have been to be recognized as the as the foremost Warrior, and strongest fighter next to the Emperor himself but Gaius’ coalition policies, and the return of so many soldiers had fundamentally changed the role.

What was once the dominion of men like Zenos was now more fit for those of Alphinaud’s ken. 

It was now a different kind of battlefield, and one that Nero would take no pleasure in fighting on.

If Garlemald was to continue moving forwards on the path that Gaius had set it upon it would need a very different sort of Emperor than it had known in the past after Gaius himself quit the Throne.

“Ah, Nero. My most loyal soldier.” Gaius greeted the man, clasping his hands behind his back lightly. A sign that the man had accepted something that did not necessarily please him but would provide the best result for all concerned.

“Your Grace.” Nero bowed respectfully.

Gaius was known to hate the honorific “Radiance” despite that being generally considered the correct title for the Emperor of Garlemald, therefore Nero only used it when he wanted to subtly annoy Gaius.

“I address Livia as my most loyal Tribuni but in truth, it has always been you.” Gaius informed the blond, harsh eyes boring into him. “While Livia is certainly loyal to me you have always been loyal, primarily to yourself but most significantly, to Garlemald. Is this not so?”

Nero didn’t answer, recognizing well that the question was entirely rhetorical. He rarely saw Gaius speak this openly. It was generally reserved for Cid’s company and the privacy of the Garlond Estates.

Nero felt his heart skip a beat as the thought occurred that perhaps this openness on Gaius’ part was a precursor to something more. Perhaps being left to languish as a tol had not been a snub but a test.

“You have impressed me, Nero.” Gaius admitted, earning an ever so slightly startled look from Nero before he managed to suppress it. Gaius did not compliment anyone easily and certainly not his “lapdog.”

“I have subjected you to slight after slight. Embarrassment upon awkwardness, keeping you leashed and yet your sight in your goals never wavered. Ever do you wait for your perfect opportunity. Such a level of control is admirable.”

Nero could think of no reply worth uttering and simply saluted again. Gaius spoke nothing but the truth, although Nero could not fathom what had possessed the Emperor to do so at this particular moment.

“I do not share power easily, Nero. Yet if I am to marry it will require more of my attention than I am capable of giving while ruling Garlemald and managing the Imperial Army. If I must relinquish some of my control over the Empire it can only be to someone whose control I can trust as well as I trust my own.”

Nero’s breath quickened to match his accelerated pulse. All those years at Gaius side, having his chain yanked might just have been worth it after all.

“But how to divide the power I do not wish to relinquish? I could crown you, of course. It might be a decade or more before I am confident any child I may have is fit to continue my work.” Gaius continued, his tone falsely casual for the level of importance of the topic they discussed. “But that seems an awfully cruel thing to do a man of your intelligence, and ambitions.”

“Cruel, your Grace?” Nero echoed, startled into being unable to hold his tongue. They were speaking of his life’s dream. The very culmination of all of his ambitions. How could it possibly be cruel?!

“I intend to rule a very, very long time.” Gaius purred darkly. “Does a life in my shadow, yet reined in by my edicts and commands truly tempt you so? Knowing that the second I have an Heir you will never assume the throne? It is neither a game you would enjoy nor one you are fit for. Nor one that I have any desire to inflict upon you.”

Gaius words gave Nero room to pause, the consequences of being crowned suddenly spiraling in his minds eyes. Nero had always pictured the role as being what Zenos had been given. Being awarded territories and lands and free to do as he pleased with them. 

That was certainly what Nero wanted but Gaius spoke true. Without war, without conquest, what good was a Crown Prince who desired power?

Gaius’ coalition over conquest policies had fundamentally changed the role from that of the strongest Warrior to that of the most skilled diplomat. Someone who could carelessly sip wine while an Ala Mhigan General attempted to conceal his glares of hated.

Someone Nero was not.

“But...” Gaius continued darkly, his word pregnant with tension, “...for your loyalty I offer you the ability to choose, rather than dictate your future to you. Think very carefully on this, Nero for your choice shall inform my own and therefore the very future of Garlemald.”

Gaius held his hands out level in front of him, fists closed. “Crown Prince…”

Nero wet his lips nervously, itching to make that choice without even hearing the second open. “…or Alisaie Levellieur’s choice of role for you.”

Nero flinched before he could catch himself, and Gaius smirked at the panicked expression that flitted across Nero’s face before he could contain it. Gaius could not resist yanking Nero’s chain one more time while he still possessed the ability to do so.

Nero’s mind whirled, rapidly trying to deduce just what Alisaie’s choice would have been. Trying to weight what he knew about the teenager to make some sort of an informed guess at her actions, and motivations.

He struggled to wrack his mind. They had argued about so many subjects so many times but for the life of him, under pressure and in the weight of Gaius laser like stare, Nero felt like his mind had gone completely blank.

She wanted peace for this star. She wanted her friends to be happy. Did she consider him a friend?

He wasn’t sure.

If she considered him a friend then she would want him to have what he desired most but what he desired most was the role of Crown Prince, so surely, he should select that option.

It felt like a very cruel game, although Gaius was not a man inclined to mere games. Jokes, yes but not games. He was deadly serious in almost all things that he did. 

Nero fully believed that whatever choice he made now would affect what Gaius did from here. 

Alisaie’s choice must have been agreeable to the Emperor, therefore it must benefit Gaius in some way, Nero could deduce that at least.

He had to trust the little niggling instinct that, despite his heart screaming at him to kneel and be crowned, the other option was the correct choice. That instinct had kept him alive before.

“Give me…” Nero’s voice faltered but did not crack as he kneeled on 1 knee. “… give me Alisaie’s choice.”

“Nero tol Scaeva, for your loyalty to the Empire I award you the title Praefectus Totaleum Immortum and the rank of xe. You will command the Garlean armies, in their entirety, for the rest of your life but....”

Power.

Alisaie’s choice for him had been power beyond even his wildest dreams. He knew not whether the rank had existed prior to this, or whether Gaius had created it solely for him but it mattered little.

Nero held his breath, waiting for that pause, pregnant with dark threat in a way only Gaius could manage; “... it comes with one condition. You have ever desired to be treated as I do Cid, and on this occasion, I see fit to grant you that wish. Cid has an Eorzean wife.... I suggest you avail yourself of one also. Promptly.”

Gaius smirked at the slightly horrified expression on Nero's face. The man was torn between been jubilation and outrage.

Nero found himself struck dumb as he rose to look at Gaius. He would out rank everyone but the Emperor. Even Grand Minister of Science, and Gaius’ favorite, Cid nan Garlond himself.  
His word would be law, second only to Gaius’.... and he would be married.

Gaius wore a self-satisfied smirk, his fingers steepled in front of him, referncing the Eorzean tradition of wearing wedding rings, something that Cid and Dainty indulged in as he added;

“The promotion shall occur the moment the ring is on your finger. Thereby freeing me to attend to the important task of raising an heir correctly. You have two weeks to find yourself a suitable bride. Should you fail to do so I will assume the promotion does not interest you.”

“Your Grace.” Nero replied in clipped tones, a tight, furious smile tugged at the side of Nero’s mouth before he bowed again.

Gaius smirked at him, then fully laughed and dismissing him with a flick of his fingers and the utterance;

“If I have to suffer marriage, Nero, you have to suffer marriage.”


	9. If You Were Expecting Romance, You Don't Know Nero.

“You! This is all your bloody fault!”

“Me?! What the Twelve did I do?” Alisaie squeaked.

A truly furious Nero was actually a terrifying thing. She didn’t think she had ever witnessed it before but his eyes, those pale blue Garlean eyes, were so full of rage she could hardly speak.

She had been enjoying a morning coffee on the front lawn, investigating Cid’s work on what would become a fountain for Dainty when Nero had arrived and, without a word of greeting, lit into her.

Nero rolled his neck and the disdain fairly dripped from his tongue as he spoke;

“His Radiance, Gaius zos Baelsar has seen fit to offer me a choice of promotion. Crown Prince, or your bloody choice for me.” 

“My choice? I … but…. Crown Prince would have been my choice for you.” Alisaie floundered, struggling to recall her exact wording in Ul’Dah. The conversation had gone entirely out of her mind upon seeing F’lahminn again, if she was honest.

The Miqo’te was off somewhere, happily reunited with Dainty to whose side she was sticking quite close, trying to learn about this new world she had been suddenly thrust into.

Dainty had been delighted to give F'lahminn clothes and her choice of room at the Garlond Estates, urging her to furnish it however the Miqo'te pleased as the Twins and Tartaru had with theirs.

Alisaie, who found Dainty's enthusiasm for interior decorating tiresome, was leaving them to it.

“So you do not deny you spoke about me with Gaius?!” Nero hissed. 

“Of course I don’t. He asked ought be done with you and I told him the same thing Alphy always does. You’d be wasted as a diplomat, despite that being what Crown Prince will mostly comprises in the coming days and years. Then I added that I thought you ought be given what you wanted anyway. For your loyalty.”

“Really.” Nero deadpanned at her, not entirely believing her but not entirely sure she was lying, either.

“Really.” Alisaie insisted. “Gaius made some comment about my being predictable.”

“Hmph… that does sound like Gaius.” Nero muttered. This all sounded exactly like Gaius, actually. Winding him up for no good reason other than the Emperor’s amusement.

“Dare I ask… what did Gaius offer you in my name?” Alisaie asked carefully, then grimaced at the furious glare Nero shot at her. 

“Praefectus Totaleum Immortum. Command of the Empire's Armies. For life. On the condition that I wed. To an Eorzean, no less, since I desire to be treated like Cid.” Nero mimicked Gaius words in an ugly tone and despite herself Alisaie couldn’t help but give a little giggle, trying to hide it behind her hand;

“Gaius is a swot but oh, he can be damned poetic sometimes.”

“Oh yes.” Nero agreed, still seething. “I seem to recall his exact turn of phrase was “if I have to suffer marriage you have to suffer marriage.”

“Who is Gaius getting married to?” Alisaie’s eyebrows shot up. 

It had long been suggested the childless Emperor ought to marry and see about producing an heir or two but the cold-hearted Gaius had so far ignored such an idea.

“If she manages to pull off the handover of Ala Mhigo.... Livia, one assumes. Her reward for her task is the right to choose his wife. We all know she will choose herself.”

Understanding flared in Alisaie's eyes;

“He gave her an impossible task.”

“Correct.”

Alisaie frowned;

“Rhitahtyn’s task was to bring Regula van Hydrus’ men back into the fold, to be rewarded with leadership of the VIth and yours is… to get married? With the reward being command of the armies and presumably, the respect and power you have always craved. Oooh, now I see why Gaius called this my choice for you.”

She had said that Nero ought be given his heart’s desire. The role of Crown Prince was no longer something Nero would want, not really but Praefectus Totaleum Immortum was.

“So it is your bloody fault!!” Nero raged.

“Hey! I said to give you your heart’s desire. You’re the psychopathic fuck whose hearts desire is to lead armies!” Alisaie shot back, refusing to be intimidated. “Hmmmm I guess that answers what my brother is doing in Ala Mhigo.”

They arrived home to an empty house, Tartaru having gone to visit the Garlean Embassy in Kugane and Alphinaud having departed for Ala Mhigo, although there had been no explanation as to why each chose to travel to those locations.

That raised Nero’s eyebrows sharply, eyes assessing Alisaie’s face for any hint of a lie;

“Alphinaud is with Livia?”

“Yes. Did you not know?”

“Despite how much you clearly need a babysitter, Miss Leveilleur, I do not, in fact, keep track of you and your brothers’ comings and goings. No, I did not know. And nor does Gaius. Were he to find out, he would likely argue that Livia had violated the rules of the agreement and deny her the prize he does not want to give her.” Nero smiled fantastically.

Like a cat that had just happened upon a fresh pail of cream, his bad mood evaporating in an instant.

“Oh nooo.” Alisaie looked at Nero warily, realizing what she had accidentally betrayed.

Livia would be furious at her prize of Gaius being snatched from her grip. Any hope of Ala Mhigo being freed would evaporate in an instant as Livia visited her rage upon the nation.

Alisaie swallowed heavily;

“You won’t tell Gaius… will you?”

“Of course not.” Nero shot back instantly surprisingly Alisaie.

If Alisaie had had enough time to take a guess at what Nero was playing at she never would have guessed that. She knew he wanted power but at the cost of his personal freedom seemed too steep a price, even for Nero.

Despite his features being quite expressive she had absolutely no idea how to interpret his self-satisfied smiles.

For him to be willing to actively assist Livia, knowing that when she succeeded the noose of matrimony would be slipped over his head was uncommonly selfless for Nero and left Alisaie struggling to explain this seemingly abrupt departure from type.

“Why?”

“And here I thought you, betrayer of secrets, would be the most grateful and thank me for my silence.” Nero teased.

“Why are you, of all people, helping Livia? Its... its frankly nice of you, Nero and you are not nice. You are many things, but you are not nice.”

“Once again, your impeccable manners are presented in their full glory.”

“Will you stop being a bloody swot explain yourself?!” Alisaie demanded.

“Can you logic nothing without your brother holding your hand?” Nero grinned. “My marriage is tied to my promotion, not Livia’s success. Only Gaius’ marriage is tied to Livia’s success and I do believe our dear Emperor said it best. If I must suffer marriage, you must suffer marriage.”

“Oh and Gaius will suffer marriage. Livia is a damn fool if she thinks he won’t resent her before a year is out.” Cid commented, alerting the pair that they had an audience. Their raised voices had managed to draw the attention of the others.

Cid, Dainty and F’lahminn appearing to see what all the shouting was about.

It made perfect sense to Alisaie now why Nero would hold his tongue.

He wasn’t doing it to help Livia, or Alphinaud or the country of Ala Mhigo.

He was doing it entirely to help himself and turn Gaius’ taunting back on him, even if Gaius was likely to never be aware of what Nero had done.

“I will bloody suffer too.” Nero snorted in disgust. “If I can manage to get married in the first place.” 

“Oh come on, it’s not like it is that hard.” Alisaie rolled her eyes at what she judged to be Nero’s over dramatics.

“Alisiae, shut up for once in your life. You have no notion of what Gaius is demanding of me.” Nero retorted so savagely and with blue eyes burning in a way she was not used to that she actually fell silent in surprise.

“This is a lot more complex that it appears at first glance.” Cid commented with a nod to Nero not envying the Tribunus a whit the position he was in.

Nero scowled, folding his arms and half turning away. He didn’t need what he assumed to be Garlond’s pity.

Nero as Praefectus Totaleum Immortum could make life nastily difficult for Cid, reigning him in and thwarting him at every turn the way Gaius had long done to Nero.

Yet Cid still felt sympathy for Nero’s predicament.

“How do you mean?” Alisaie frowned.

Getting married was hardly impossible, as little as Nero might like the notion of surrendering his personal freedom.

“Gaius knows damn well where Nero’s lines in the sand lie when it comes to the unfortunate violent habits that plague the Imperial Army.” Cid commented, tone serious and dark before he gave a shudder. “And Gaius has pushed those boundaries time and time again. In both Nero and myself. I cannot tell you the disgust and fear I felt, seeing a small, cloaked figure on the airship landing and Gaius telling me he had brought me a gift. Fortunately for me, it was Dainty. I got lucky. I was not set up with an untenable choice; my Honor and Morals, or My Life’s Dream.” Cid made a gesture towards the furious, pouting armor clad Nero and added: “Nero is not being given that luxury.”

Alisaie quickly recalled Nero having once voiced a desire to punish Arenvald's Garlean father for the gross liberties taken that had resulted in that mans' unwelcome birth and observed Cid's words to be very true.

“I have to wed an Eorzean. Do you know how few of those reside in Garlemald? Eorzea is unconquered lands and even if it wasn’t I have no desire for a wife who is powerless, or vulnerable. Someone who has no ability to say no because she was sold to me for someone else’s benefit.” Nero growled between his teeth and Alisaie started to understand that Nero had been given as equally an impossible a task as Livia had.

“Gaius would also be aware that Nero would aim for an of age Elezen or a Hyur, slimming the field even further. To me it sounds like Gaius wants Nero and Livia to fail, so that he has yet further excuse not to marry, nor to share power.” Cid diagnosed.

“Admittedly my thoughts ran similar.” Nero agreed.

If he had been free to wed a fellow Garlean the Emperor’s stipulation of “promptly” would not have been the slightest of issue. 

He could have named 3 women in the XIVth alone who would have been willing to trade their freedom for the benefits granted them by his promotion in such a superior manner.

He would be free to promote others below him, after all.

If he had been free to wed anyone “of Aan” again, he could have found any number of Ala Mhigan, Doman or Dalmascians within the Capitol itself willing to use matrimony as their “in” to Garlean citizenship.

The fact that he was under orders to marry an Eorzean was the issue. His chances of finding one in Garlemald that was not already wed to a Garlean citizen was slim to none. 

He could travel to Ishgard and source a wife from that allied City but his chances of finding someone who was not being forced into accepting his suit by parents greedy for his coin in only 2 weeks was uncomfortably slender.

Nero could not be comfortable with notion of a bride who was purchased or forced, and Gaius knew it.

Nero’s eyes lit on Dainty. The only adult Eorzean he knew.

“You have to help me. You owe me.”

“I gave you the key to Azys Lla. I don’t owe you a thing.” Dainty retorted, her small features betraying not the slightest hint of sympathy for Nero’s predicament. 

“Dainty, surely we can help somehow.” Alisaie chided the other woman's coldness, thinking that having the Praefectus Totaleum Immortum in the Scions debt would hardly be unhelpful.

She also considered Nero a friend and, as she had observed to Gaius, she wanted him to have the power, rank, wealth and respect he had long craved. 

“You can hardly expect me to be eager to help Nero when he has spent years trying to tear down my husband.” Dainty accused, folding her arms below her breasts and giving Nero a sharp-eyed look. “Why should I help you achieve a promotion that will allow you to ruin Cid?”

Nero flinched back at that, admittedly in his panic over being forced to marry the thought of enacting vengeance for all the slights and snubs against his work had not occurred to Nero….yet.

Nero could not deny that in his visions of the future, once his perfect opportunity had finally come to pass, getting vengeance over Cid nan Garlond had absolutely been part of them.

“You make no denials, I see, that you have ever sought to bring low Gaius’ favorite. Despite the fact it is Gaius who leashed you. Gaius who mocked you. Gaius who chose to favor one over the other. No, Nero, I have absolutely no desire to help you achieve Praefectus tol whatever and hold Cid to task for Gaius’ crimes at all!”

Dainty was not entirely sure what the title of Praefectus Totaleum Immortum amounted to, but she could take a guess it came with a lot of power by the title associated with it.

Even Livia, should she succeed in marching Gaius to the alter, would only rank as Wir, while as Xe Nero would be below only those titled Zos and Yae. Namely, the Emperor and the next in line to the Throne.

Cid, a simple Nan, would not stand a chance, the Emperor’s favorite or not.

“I give you my word.” Nero snarled, hating that his dreams were being chipped away at, little by little. He had long dreamed of the power his promotion to such a dizzy height with in Garlemald would entail but he had always imagined it to be unconditional.

Surely he deserved no less?

Yet constrictions had been placed upon him, first by Gaius, forcing the surrender of his personal freedom to marry and now, if he were to succeed, by Dainty. Forcing him to set aside seeing Cid getting what Nero believed to be Garlond’s much-deserved comeuppance. 

“Your word about what?” Dainty pressed.

“I will not in any way, neither by overt interference nor by neglect, do anything to damage Garlond or his standing in Garlemald.” This was hissed through his teeth, face turned away from Dainty in rebellious annoyance, deeply angered to have to make such a vow.

“I am just dying to volunteer a friend into your ever so pleasant company.” Dainty snorted, sarcastic and unimpressed with this display. Nero whipped his head around to glare at her and she looked back at him fearlessly. “Just because you want a woman who can fully consent don’t mean you won’t be an emotional abusive, volatile swot who resents her as quickly as Gaius will resent Livia. We all know your ability to hold a grudge.”

A sour look crossed Nero’s face and, one eye twitching with rage.

Cid put a gentle hand on Dainty’s shoulder, drawing her gaze.

“Ease up on the man a little, Dainty.”

“I don’t need your bloody help, Garlond.” Nero spat but Cid merely shook his head with a chuckle;

“Clearly you do if you think talking like that is a great way to reassure Dainty any wife of yours will be treated respectfully.” 

“Yeah, Nero. Everyone knows the way to get Dainty to do anything is have Cid ask her.” Alisaie added.

“It is not!” Dainty protested.

“Yes, it is.” Cid, Alisaie and Nero all commented at the same time although Nero did so slightly begrudgingly.

Dainty scowled, looking put out and a look of stubborn refusal in her eyes.

Gaius had put Nero in one Hells of a nasty predicament in Cid’s opinion. 

The most fucked up game of would-you-rather he had have ever seen and one Cid had once feared being put in himself.

He absolutely understood Dainty wanting to protect him. The price for Dainty being hidden so diligently by Garlemald had always been her protection of Cid.

But on principal alone forcing someone to violate their morals for one’s own amusement was not a game Gaius ought be allowed to win. 

Cid knew Dainty didn’t quite fathom how malicious Gaius was being and now was not quite the time to fully explain it to her.

Instead Cid took one of her hands, drawing it to his mouth to kiss the scales on the back of her hand gently; his blue eyes holding hers.

“I know you don’t like it but do it anyway. Just like I did in Ishgard.” Cid’s deep, gentle voice taking on the beguiling tones that he knew she loved. He tucked one of her curls behind her cranial projection, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Please, Dainty?”

The militant look in her dark magenta and orange limbal ringed eyes softened, and died away a soft little pink flush on her cheeks replacing it.

“Alright.” Dainty conceded, letting herself be seduced into compliance.

A smart insult about their antics rose to Nero’s tongue but for possibly the first time in his life he bit it back.

Nero hated owing Cid nan Garlond but he was in an impossible situation and when it came to achieving the seemingly impossible there were few people who had managed it more than once quite the way the Eikon Slayer did.

“Twelve! Any else would have been punched for trying a stunt like that.” F’lahminn observed, sotto voice, to Alisaie who nodded with a little giggle;

“You aren’t the first to make that observation.”

Dainty was well known to react with violence towards those who would coerce or manipulate her, unless that person was Cid.

“Do you at least promise that your wife will be treated with kindness, dignity and respect?” Dainty asked Nero over her shoulder, body still angled towards Cid.

“To the utmost of my ability.” Nero replied instantly, and it was not a lie.

The strategist in Nero was entirely aware that whomever he married he would have to live with that person for the rest of his days. Brow beating her into loathing him would not make for a tolerable future.

He knew it would not be pleasant, there would be no grand romance between him and his wife as had occurred between Cid and Dainty. Nero didn’t want that anyway, he needed only a suitable and adequate arrangement.

“What about Belle Haillenarte?” Cid suggested gently to Dainty.

“No. She has had her fill of arranged Garlean husbands and besides, I think it likely Artoirel and Belle will be married during Heavensturn. Especially now that the Baron is not there to disapprove.” Dainty murmured.

Unlike their late Father the new Baron, Stephanivian, had no issue with his sister and the eldest son of House Fortemps being wed.

“I could do it.” Alisaie offered, seeing that Dainty had clearly withdrawn her objections to helping at Cid’s request.

“No!” Nero growled, pointing a finger at her sharply. “You are a child and you bloody well look like one.”

“I’m 17!”

“I don’t give a shit. I will never be so desperate as to conscious being inappropriate with a child. I’ll take a woman my own age I had to purchase over that. 28 would be that absolute youngest I could accept, preferably closer to my own 35.”

F'lahminn's pretty pink eyes lingered on the man who had kidnapped her so easily from Ishgard.

They all seemed to have forgotten she was there in wake of Nero's plight, Alisaie was suggesting that perhaps her Father in Sharlayan might know someone suitable. 

This gave F'lahminn able opportunity to fully observe Nero, the desire to be needed by someone spurring her on. 

Dainty did not need her, nor did the Twins. Garlemald and Cid had given the Auri everything she could ever want or need. F'lahminn was not a child to be taken in, as grateful as she was for Dainty's generosity.

Nero needed someone. Not her, precisely but an unwed Erozean above 28 summers, which she undeniably was. She regarded him closer, finding him not unattractive.

He was very tall and she had always appreciated that physical aspect in men, her first love being an Elezen who was a full head taller than she. Nero had good, thick blonde hair, and nice cheekbones, his eyes, although they were scrunched up in annoyance right now appeared to be a pleasant shade of blue. 

_We would produce very pretty children_ – F'lahminn mused, tapping her fingers against her cheek, her plans more solidifying in her mind. 

She would love to be a Mother again, she could not deny that and although it was hard to tell thanks to the crimson armor he wore she doubted a devout Military man would be physically unfortunate below the heavy Magitek plate.

F’lahminn cleared her throat a little and smiled when 2 Garlean, an Elezen and an Au Ra head swung in her direction, reminded that she was there.

“Dainty, may I have a word?” F’lahminn requested gently, her eyes lingering on Nero before gesturing a small distance away. Dainty nodded, allowing the Miqo’te to lead her far enough away that their conversation would not be over-heard.

Even still it was palpably obvious they were discussing Nero from the timing alone, not to mention the frequent glances in his direction. 

“Do you actually believe Nero will treat his Eorzean wife with kindness, dignity and respect?”

“Why do you ask?” Dainty asked, wary although she suspected she knew what F’lahminn would say.

“We both know I am thinking to offer myself as the solution to this problem. Nero’s friendship with Alisaie worried me, a man of his age and a girl of hers yet his stance regarding a vulnerable wife and his response when she offered herself is making me question that concern. It leads me to believe it is nothing more than a genuine friendship and a friend of a Scion is a friend of mine.”

“Your goodness and kindness will get you in trouble, F’lahminn.” Dainty scolded gently with a smile.

“It has not yet.” F’lahminn countered with a smile of her own. “I am not a child to be taken in as you have the Twins, Dainty. I am woman grown who wants a home, and a child of her own.”

“With Nero?” Dainty looked skeptically at the tall blond Garlean, who responded by frowning at them.

“He is handsome enough, I could certainly do worse than a tall, physically fortunate Garlean as my child’s sire.”

“Are you sure we are still talking about Nero?”

“Dainty!” F’lahminn laughed a little, then held her hands to her chest, looking at the Au Ra seriously. “Please understand, Dainty, I do not begrudge you your rage at Ul’Dah, in fact, I thank you for avenging my beloved Ascilla but it made Eorzea an unsafe environment for me. I have been alone all this time and my heart aches be needed again.”

“I need you, F’lahminn.”

“No, you don’t.” F'lahminn smiled patiently, quite used to Dainty's stubbornness. 

This drew a deep frown from Dainty, eyes losing focus to look more al F’lahminn’s feet than anything else, pondering F’lahminn’s words.

She had several reasons to dislike this arrangement, but they were selfish and hypocritical more than anything else. Dainty wanted her friend to remain with her, now that they were reunited once more, as she wanted to shield and keep all her friends safe always.

Yet Dainty herself had consented wholeheartedly to an arranged marriage, to deny F’lahminn agency to do the same would be hypocritical and disrespectful. 

Dainty’s eyes, dark magenta with candle light orange limbal rings moved to Nero, narrowed slightly, then looked to F’lahminn. 

“What Nero calls kindness you might find far lacking in comparison to your own. Respect and dignity, however, yes. I do believe him to be capable of forcing himself to give his wife these things as equally as he gives them to smirking, taunting Gaius zos Baelsar.”

“And my concerns regarding Alisaie?”

“I have never once not trusted Nero to accompany Alisaie into battle or questioned their friendship.” Dainty owned quickly, reassuring F’lahminn further.

“Will you vouch for him?” F’lahminn pressed, wanting to be fully reassured that Dainty would consider F’lahminn safe with Nero. He was a Garlean General, if he ever took it into his head to raise a fist to her she would be dead before she hit the floor. 

Her desire to be needed or not F'lahminn recalled how deftly Nero had put her over his shoulder in Ishgard. He was so much stronger than she but if Dainty vouched for him then F'lahminn would not think twice upon the matter.

“My objections are numerable....” Dainty frowned heavily. She was not sure what to say and needed time to think. It was not her life but she was still deeply uncomfortable with what F'lahminn was thinking to volunteer to do. “...Nero is selfish and petty and stubborn and would not make a good Father or husband.”

“Do not think me blind to that! The man is clearly far more interested in his career than anything else.” F'lahminn acknowledged, “I have few desires and need only that which has been denied me in Eorzea; a stable environment and to be needed again. If Nero can provide me a child and somewhere safe to raise it I shall be entirely satisfied doing so predominately alone.”

F'lahminn paused taking Dainty by the shoulders and looking down into the stubborn Au'Ra face closely; “I understand your objections, Dainty but they are not **my** objections. If you have a reason I know not for digging your heels in, voice it now. Otherwise, I wish to know if you will vouch for Nero.”

Dainty's lips twisted to the side, an unwilling expression in her dark purple and orange limbal ringed eyes. Other than Cid F'lahminn was the best at managing the sometimes temperamental Au Ra's stubbornness. F'lahmin had always been the only person who dared step between Dainty and Thancred when the pair were drunk and bickering, not even Y'Shtola could manage that.

“I will vouch for a man who faced down the Elder God Bahamut without any form of Echo to protect him from Tempering.... twice. Few can make that boast. Not even me.” Dainty agreed softly after a few moments of silence. “I cannot vouch that this will make you happy but that is not for me to find out. I do not like your choice, F’lahminn but I will respect your right to make it.”

“Thank you, Dainty.” F’lahminn gave her a gentle Eorzean salute and Dainty gave a laugh, pulling her into a hug, momentarily surprising F’lahminn before she embraced the smaller, delicate woman gleefully. “Oh! That is right, you hug now! Cid really did soften you, didn’t he?”

“The prevailing theory is that I was just really sexually frustrated.” Dainty replied, linking her arm with F’lahminn’s as the two women walked back to rejoin the others, giggling as they went.

“What on Earth was all that about? You looked fit to slap one another for a moment there.” Alisaie questioned, a little hurt that she had been left out of that conversation. She was Eorzean as they were, even if she were half their age.

F’lahminn stepped confidently to Nero, looking up at him with her soft pink eyes. He was very tall but she liked that he was.

“Can with stomach a Miqo’te over an Elezen or Hyur, Sir? I understand the ears and tail can be a little off-putting to some, but I am as tall as many Hyur, so that we will not look awkward beside one another. Especially if I take to wearing heels and I am fully 37 summers of age. Not a child, as requested.”

“You?” Nero looked at F’lahminn in surprise.

He had assumed she and Dainty were ardently discussing a mutual acquaintance that might be suitable, not F’lahminn herself. 

His blue eyes roved to Dainty who offered only;

“You can hardly have issue with her being vulnerable when you know full well she need only glance in my direction and I’d gladly put you in a shallow grave.”

“Dainty, you said you vouched for him.” F’lahminn scolded, again surprising Nero. He had not thought to have ever earned such consideration from Lady Garlond.

“And I do, am I not helping?” Dainty smirked tone faux innocent and Cid muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “c’mere you.” before Dainty was hauled up and put over his shoulder, effectively eliminating her from the conversation. 

F’lahminn was amused to see that this appeared to be the standard method in removing willful Eorzean’s from their present course of action in Garlemald, at least as far as Cid and Nero were concerned.

“We’ll give you both some privacy.” Cid told Nero with a respectful nod.

“No!” Dainty protested but was ignored by her husband who was entirely sympathetic in the ways Dainty wasn’t at what Nero and F'lahminn were facing down with an arranged marriage.

Sometimes Cid wondered if Dainty had utterly forgotten what it was like to be married to a stranger.

“That sounds like a very good idea.” Alisaie agreed, turning and joining Cid to move quickly into the house and give F’lahminn and Nero a chance to speak without interference from a rather stubborn Au Ra.

Nero looked at the pretty Miqo’te, her pink eyes calm, hands clasped lightly in front of her as if they were discussing nothing more serious than an evening’s casual entertainment. 

As a friend of Dainty Garlond F’lahminn was not without financial resources, fulfilling his requirement of a wife who was not purchased, or in some way could not refuse for fear of being beaten, killed or starving to death.

She was not in a position of vulnerability, F’lahminn did not have to marry him but was choosing to, which was want Nero wanted.

“I do not mind the ears, or tail, more than I worry you too soft for a soldier’s wife. No doubt Lady Garlond informed you that I can be a malm stubborn.” Nero owned.

“I think you will find my years of dealing with ill-mannered bar patrons who are not content to only look at the pretty Songstress has given me practice in managing stubborn men.” F’lahminn grinned, her mouth curling into a confident smile.

“You are very gentle. I would fear hurting you.” 

He was a battle-hardened soldier, and a pure blooded Garlean on top of that. Even accidentally he could do a lot of damage to a woman who had made a career on the stage and was mindful of that.

“Then you shall simply have to be extra careful not to and I am not as soft as I look. I was already formulating an escape plan for being over your shoulder when I was reunited with Alisaie, after all.”

“Ah, yes.” Nero looked slightly embarrassed but did not apologize for kidnapping her from Ishgard. “Blame Dainty for that.”

“I have thanked her for it as it restored me to her. Had I known in advance that was the intentions I should have quite gladly jumped into your arms.” F’lahminn replied gently. “If you treat me with kindness, dignity and respect and I treat you the same I see no reason we ought not do perfectly adequately together.” 

Nero’s mouth screwed to the side unable to come up with any other objections to taking F’lahminn as his wife, leaving him to acknowledge;

“That is the best we can hope for.”


	10. The Thing About Marriages is They Need to be Consummated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F'lahminn and Nero get acquainted. The naked kind of acquainted

Accommodations for the Imperial Army were utilitarian, focusing over function beyond form or even personal comforts.

Depending on one’s rank, favor with the Emperor, or assignment certain luxuries could be enjoyed but were generally the domain of soldiers who happened to come from wealthy families who could fund creature comforts above what the Army handed out.

Nero, as Tribunus Laticlavus of the XIVth enjoyed the privacy of his own apartment on the good side of town, in between the Royal Palace and the Summer Villa, so that he could answer his Legatus’ summons at any times.

The building held only 6 apartments, meaning having to interact with his neighbors, one of which was usually Rhitahtyn, was rare and allowed for peace and quiet. It also possessed its own Quick Travel System inlet, giving it a level of convenience that most did not enjoy.

F’lahminn’s eyes roved endlessly as she was guided up the stairs to the first floor and Nero let her into the space he had occupied alone for the past 5 years.

She carried only a hastily packed night bag, care of Dainty.

Although she was quite pleased to have been abducted from Ishgard it did mean that she had arrived in Garlemald with nothing but the clothes she wore. Fortunately, Dainty had a small mountain of clothes, many of which were comprised of material that stretched, or were to be worn baggy allowing the larger framed F’lahminn to wear them with ease.

They also already had a tail hole installed into them, which F’lahminn appreciated, as hers was swishing behind her spasmodically, betraying the anxiousness her calm features did not reflect.

Everything in Garlemald tended to be constructed of kohl grey metal and Nero’s building was no different. Grey metal and simple lighting. Austere and with no joy to it, built quickly by a military minded architect looking to spend as little as possible.

The floors were cold, even in the middle of Spring and there was only a single window on each floor.

Nero’s apartment was not much better. It appeared quite barren unless one liked books, of which Nero had a plethora.

“There is only one bedroom so we will have to share.” Nero offered the Miqo’te who was now, preposterously, his wife. He swiftly remembered his promise to treat such a person with dignity, kindness and respect and quickly added: “Unless you prefer to take the couch. I’d offer to do it but honestly, it’s too damn small for me to sleep comfortably on.”

F’lahminn smiled at what passed for “kindness” from Nero and turned her face up to his lightly.

“I am happy to share.” F’lahminn said, stroking her hair back into place a little. “I am also fully prepared, and quite willing to consummate our marriage immediately. You need not wait to approach me whenever you are similarly comfortable.”

Those Garlean blue eyes narrowed at her suddenly, a frown manifesting on his brow.

Nero was not shy when it came to sex, nor uninterested in women despite his reputation. Yet there was something off about F’lahminn’s behavior by his reckoning. 

No one was that selfless. No one was that giving.

"There has to be something in this for you, you seem too good to be true. I am not this lucky." Nero observed, tone clearly suspicious.

The Universe did not work this way. A woman who met all his criteria other than her race and he was certainly willing to forgive her that and she was willing, even eager to sleep with him from the get go?

The sort of good fortune belonged to the Garlond's of the world.

Not himself.

For a moment F'lahminn hesitated on being fully candid, perhaps it would upset him but quickly decided that Nero was clearly very smart, and observant too. He would very likely guess her motives the moment he realized she took no alchemical preventives, nor used medicinal wards to prevent pregnancy.

"I want a child." F'lahminn admitted. "You are an attractive fellow, with many pleasing physical attributes to grant my child. Furthermore, you have a steady income, which is more than I could boast earning my keep with my songs. I hope this will not be an issue for you. I am entirely respectful of the fact your career is your priority and in fact welcome the idea of raising my child predominantly alone."

"Huh..." Nero made a small noise of what F'lahminn thought might be both acceptance and confusion.

He didn't necessarily not want children so much as Nero had never bothered to consider it too hard.

He was considered handsome but a charity case in Garlean Society. Although he had influence due to Gaius' ascension to the throne his poor heritage had led more than one woman who might consider dating him referring to the notion as "slumming it."

He had always found the idea of marriage distasteful anyway, after watching his parent’s snark and bicker as a child. The idea of never marrying was one he had cherished and therefore he had assumed he would never have children.

Nero had been content to put the notion out of his mind save making the occasional joke at how terrible a parent someone as self-centered as he was would be.

He looked at her earnest, pretty features.

If F'lahminn was quite certain she did not expect much from him in the way of contribution outside of a bedroom and the bank account, he was not opposed to the idea of contributing to a half-breed.

Unlike many Garleans he was not devoted to the idea of the purity of blood.

It was one of the few things he and Garlond both agreed upon. What two consenting adults did a bedroom Nero couldn't have cared less. It affected him not a whit.

"You will not expect me to care much for the child? Late nights or diaper changes or such?" Nero questioned, he honestly did not have much clue as to what raising a child entailed other than new parents often complained of not getting enough sleep and he would be sleep deprived for nothing other than his work if he could help it.

"Absolutely not. I require only a stable environment, financial security and..." she glanced around at the many books "... enough room for a nursery. If I find myself overwhelmed I am perfectly content to turn to friends or seek the assistance of a nanny."

Nero gave a shrug;

"Works for me. Anything else I should know?"

"I do not think so." F'laminn again gave him a gentle smile. "Is there anything you would like to tell me?"

Nero considered this, then shook a finger at her.

"I expect faithfulness."

"What do you suppose was the point of my marrying you for your looks if I were planning to run about like a two-bit whore?" F'lahminn asked patiently but with a little huff of offense.

Unlike Alisaie, who would have sassed him royally and called him names F'lahminn managed to convey with little more than a look how stupid a statement that was on his part and that she was disappointed in him. 

He felt it too, although not entirely sure why he should care for a strangers’ disappointment.

"Besides,” F’lahminn continued with a small shrug. “We are reasonable adults, no doubt we can figure out how to please one another so that faithfulness on both our parts need not be a challenge, nor a sacrifice. Although I will own you to be the first Garlean I have ever been intimate with."

"You won't be the first miqo I have." Nero shrugged. He would take it where he could get it. He had slept with Livia's sister in Ishgard, after all, and couldn't wait to rub that in Livia's face.

"Tis not important. Is there is anything I should note about your unique physiology?"

She made a vague gesture at her face and Nero realized she was asking about his third eye.

"Some Garleans fetishize it, liking to be kissed there and such." Nero shrugged. "I'm not one of them. Short of not punching me it, I really don't care."

"Do people punch you in it often?" F’lahminn blinked.

"Alisaie every chance she bloody gets." Nero snorted and F'lahminn gave an elegant burst of laughter, her tail fluffing slightly in amusement.

"I can certainly promise no punching. As you observed, I am no fighter, nor would I be able to stand up to the physical prowess of a Garlean General even if I were." F'lahminn made a gesture in what she hoped was the direction of the bedroom. "Shall we?"

Nero had heard worse ideas and worse ways to spend an evening, if he was honest.

He led her to the bedroom and F’lahminn walked there with a confidence she did not truly feel, taking a moment to survey the similarly austere surroundings and having to remind herself firmly that this was her life now.

She lived here.

It was not an unpleasant thought, Nero’s bed was easily large enough for 2 and could hardly manage to be as lumpy as the awful, over-used flimsy mattresses that she had once slept on at the Waking Sands. 

Nor did she ever have to worry about finding someone else asleep in it because there was not enough bed space to go around.

F’lahminn removed her dress and shoes, leaving her clad only in her small clothes, arranging herself on the bed so that her tail would not be crushed and noting with satisfaction that the bedding was much cleaner than she might have expected from a terminal bachelor. 

In fact, now that she thought about it Nero’s apartments seemed less austere so much as rigidly organized. 

Everything had its place. The lamp was positioned in the absolute center of the bedside table. A glass of water at an exact right angle beside it.

Even his countless books were neatly arranged on their shelves. There were no haphazard piles of tomes spilling off side tables or half-finished projects littering what counter space there was.

Love was not an emotion Nero was particularly acquainted with. He found the concept urban and, like most Garleans, the stuff of silly fairy tales and stories written to impress bored house wives. 

He was very good, however, at faking the emotion enough to seduce a woman. At playing the part of an ardent admirer when it got him what he wanted.

There was a gentle expression hovering in his very blue eyes that F’lahminn appreciated as he drank in her small clothed form. She suspected it was fake, especially as it seemed to have come from nowhere to replace the normally hard glint in his eyes but she liked it all the same.

Nero undressed, moving to sit beside her and when she turned her face up to his, correctly guessing the prideful man would want to take the lead, he stroked a thumb gently against her cheekbones.

“Such a curious shade.” Nero murmured, voice very deep and looking at F’lahminn’s pale pink eyes. “I do not think I’ve ever seen such a colour before, nor seen it worn so flatteringly.”

F’lahminn felt a little thrill go down her spine at that seductive tone.

He ran his thumb across her lips.

"Forgive me for not telling you earlier how beautiful you are."

His voice a was a dark, slow purr and F'lahminn smiled, letting herself be beguiled by Nero's honeyed words and sweet nothings.

"I hope you always think so." She whispered in reply, shifting herself a little closer to put an arm around his shoulders, leaning in to him a little.

"How could I not?"

He kissed her at long last. They had not kissed when they were officially wed. Just simply signed some papers.

Tartaru, her endless gift for paperwork in rare form, had discovered an obscure rule known as Irregular Marriage that mean if F'lahminn and Nero simply wrote that they agreed to be married to one another from this day forward and an impartial witness and an impartial authority signed it, it was law.

Since Dainty counted as a witness and Cid as Grand Minister counted as an Authority they had been wedded by little more than some words on a paper.

Nero had been more than glad to be spared the humiliation of saying vows or kissing F'lahminn in front of the Garlonds, although as his lips lingered against hers gently he realized the second half of that would not have been so bad.

F'lahminn kissed Nero back, missing the heat and passion she had had with other lovers but quickly pushing that aside. She pressed herself eagerly against Nero, kissing him deeply and trying to force herself to feel some chemistry with him.

She was as good an actor as he was. A successful singing career required more than just being possessed of a large and well-trained vocal range. F’lahminn knew how to move and act in conjunction with her song to coax forth whatever emotion she desired the audience to feel.

Nero was not at all displeased, or surprised when F'lahminn suddenly arched herself into him.

Her eyes moved from Nero's face to his body, ducking her head to avidly investigate his skin and muscles with curious fingers. Years of wearing heavy armor and an active, military lifestyle had left him muscular but lean in a pleasant way.

Her fingers found each cut and ridge, each plane and angle of his form. Admiring each in turn.

Nero admitted to being slightly enthralled as the avid, curious Miqo'te's hands roamed his body. He did so appreciate being worshiped with attention the way she was.

Touching quickly turning to licking as F'lahminn pressed her opportunity, seeing the perfect opening to progress their lovemaking. She dragged her tongue down his neck and across his collar bones, continuing downwards before she was suddenly gripped around her forearms and kissed rather soundly. 

"Oh!" F'lahminn murmured not objecting but just surprised, eagerly meeting his slightly rougher, demanding kisses in kind sipping at his lips and trying to push him to the bed with her weight. 

She might as well have been a feather pushing on a mountain and realized it quickly with a little giggle.

He adjusted his body, laying out on the bed as she had desired him to do and, with a confident grip of her hips, guided her to straddle him.

"Now you may continue." Nero informed her cheekily, folding his arms behind his head and F’lahminn realized her new husband had one hell of an ego on top of being “a malm stubborn.”

She didn't mind. She knew how to deal with egocentric men.

She adjusted her tail slightly, then quickly moved to pick up where she had left off. She was eager to keep their momentum going since they were getting along so well. 

She pressed kisses to his chest, nails scratching just a little.

Her hands began to roam lower, fingertips teasing over rock hard abdominal muscles that reminded F’lahminn firmly of a wash board.

Nero gave a hum of amusement, and arousal at her ticklish touches and F’lahminn grinned.

“Oh, you can laugh.” She observed mischievously, tickling him again. 

A playfulness that Nero had not heard in her voice before in her tone. Apparently, what they said about Miqo’te’s being forward and free spirited sexually was not untrue with F’lahminn, Nero noted with satisfaction.

“Rarely.” Nero observed with a smirk, freeing his hands from behind his head to catch her wrists, pulling her down and rolling over her.

F’lahminn appreciated his grace of movement as he settled above her, catching her mouth in a hard kiss. 

A delicious heat and the telltale throb of mounting arousal manifest in F’lahminn as Nero’s hands started to wander across her body and skin the way hers had across his.

Being under Nero was far from unpleasant, F’lahminn decided quickly.

His body was warm, and heavy against hers and her arms were free to run his hands down his back, exploring the shape of his muscles there, with a little giggle, cup his ass and give a slight squeeze.

Nero bit her neck in response.

“Oh!” F’lahminn gasped. It tickled and hurt and felt good all at the same time. Nero’s tongue massaging her elevated pulse. She squirmed beneath him, grinding her hips against him restlessly. “Oh.... Nero…”

A smirk manifest itself on Nero's mouth at how easily his name dropped from the Miqo’te's full lips.

“Aaah, she likes to be bitten.” Nero cataloged softly, his voice practically a purr against her skin. 

He gave her neck several teasing little nips before continuing down, tongue dipping into the hollow at the bottom of her throat.

Intense arousal shot through her, her pulse leaping higher still.

She stroked her fingers down his back, hard enough to be pleasant but soft enough to ever so slightly tickle. 

F’lahminn wanted to give as good as she was getting although it was difficult, trapped on her back struggling to keep her head over the rising heat in her body.

She was aware of his cock, hot and hard pressing into her, stimulated by her writhing.

F’lahminn was momentarily distracted by Nero beginning to unclip her bra and arched a little so that it was easier for him to do so. There was a flicker of nervousness in her stomach as the garment was removed from her, baring her breasts.

To be naked was to be vulnerable and being vulnerable with a complete stranger was frightening and exciting all at once.

The lamp on the bedside table gave the room a low, hazy golden glow and F’lahminn watched Nero’s face as he scooted back to his heels to draw her panties down her legs.

She wondered if his heart was pounding as chaotically as hers. His expression certainly did not seem to indicate anything other than amused arrogance. Almost as if he took for granted that she would desire him.

Or perhaps he was merely that confident in his ability to get a lady panting.

Nero’s blue eyes drank in her body, progressing over her gently sloping shoulders, down her full, pink tipped breasts and traversing her delicate waist and curved hips and settling on her bare mound.

One blonde eyebrow quirked, amusement again overtaking arrogance on his features momentarily.

“Bare?” Nero question, curious as he leaned forwards and drew fingertips up her thighs teasingly, whispering across her skin.

“A habit adopted from my years on the stage.” F’lhaminn offered breathlessly, anxious that it might turn him off and thinking she ought to have warned him. “Some of my costumes were cut quite close. If you would prefer I…”

“Not at all. Remind me to get you your own cream and razors.” Nero commented, reaching for his small clothes with a smirk.

Like her he kept himself shaven, finding it simply neater and more hygienic. After seeing the exacting standards of order and cleanliness in which he kept his apartment F’lahminn was not surprised by this and gave him a ribald little grin.

It could have been a trick of the light, or the fact he was clean shaven but she rather thought he was a good bit more well-endowed than she had been expecting. 

She beckoned him closer with one finger and Nero returned to her side, naked. 

F’lahminn had thought that he did not noticed her momentarily anxiety or was perceptive enough to ignore it as she was endeavoring to do but when Nero kissed her against it was gently, stroking a hand through her hair and exchanging kisses until she relaxed into his embrace. 

F’lahminn utterly melted.

Alisaie was wrong. Nero was kind, just in an intensely private, intimate way.

His mouth left hers to kiss down her throat again, not because he had forgotten where he left off, but in case she had.

His mouth moved expertly from collarbones to sternum and then between her exposed breasts. F’lahminn trembled, core beginning to throb at his ministrations.

She had not been prepared for him to be quite this attentive, his lips and tongue worshiping her peaked, hard nipples until they were sensitive nubs of arousal. 

He peppered little bites of her neck and shoulders between the kisses. F’lahminn’s pulse hammered so hard she could feel it in the tips of her feline ears.

She squirmed again, breath hitching in her throat and running her hands through his blond hair.

He kept it slicked back with gel for the most part but one little forelock kept flopping into his third eye adorably, no matter how many times she attempted to rake it back into place with her fingernails.

Her touches were so tender, Nero wasn't used to liking that but her arms around his shoulders, gripping only enough that her fingernails dug in only a little was heart-numbingly sweet.

She did not drag her nails down his back, instead caressing his spine with soft fingertips.

“I think you and I are going to do a Hells of a lot better than adequate together.” F’lahminn breathed, circling her hips and rubbing herself against his hard length, trying to wordlessly convey her desire to be taken without further delay.

Nero took her legs at the knee, guiding her to pull them up, almost all the way back to her chest and out slightly, leaving her open and completely exposed.

F’lahminn adjusted her hips a second, flicking her tail out of the way and impressed that Nero was that damn dedicated to her enjoyment.

He had made a point to guide her into a position made penetration the easiest and felt particularly good for the woman. Her breath caught in her throat and a shiver went down her spine.

This was it, they were going to consummate the marriage. She was going to have sex with her husband. The urge to burst into hysterical laughter struck F’lahminn but she pressed her lips closed to contain it.

“Last chance.” Nero smirked at her, stroking his hands up her hips, over her ribs and breasts. 

A slow, deliberate touch to both reassure her and give her the opportunity to call the whole thing off if she wanted to. And proving once again he had noted her momentary nervousness in an instant.

“Same to you.” F’lahminn tossed back with a smile her eyes meeting his almost defiantly. She wasn’t going anywhere, she was his wife.

Nero kissed her, cupping her cheek with one hand, the other dropping to guide himself to her entrance.

The tip of his cock touched her outer lips, heat and wet exploding around the sensitive head and reassuring him in an instant she had wanted to progress.

She quivered but made an eager noise against his mouth.

F’lahminn felt his cock penetrate her and instinctively arched into the pleasurable sensation, driving him deep inside.

Her inner muscles tensed sharply protesting the sudden invasion of something hot and thick inside her after she had been without for so long.

Nero gave a rough grunt through his teeth, brow furled against the intense sensation of being clamped in a silken vice. She was tighter than he had anticipated, especially after how eagerly she had responded to his touches.

“Oh!” F’lahminn writhed a little and rolled her hips.

He responded to the instinctual command of her body, beginning to move within her.

Each thrust pushing her open and sending bolts of sensation radiating out from her core. “Oh!...Nero!”

The way she gasped his name was downright musical and Nero was instantly enraptured to hear it sung quite like that. 

She cried out, a little frown creased her forehead at the intensity of it, unknowingly hitting c-sharp perfectly and sending a violent shudder down Nero’s spine.

If nothing else he would never be able to complain about the gorgeous noises she made.

She couldn’t seem to stop making that little gasping noise on every breath and Nero moved to kiss her mouth and drinking them in.

His large hands found her hips, tilting them down just a whisker and something intense hit F’lahminn in her gut.

"Gods but you’re good at that." she hummed against his lips, dragging her hands down his corrugated sides.

Nero couldn't help but give a sharp bark of laughter at the compliment that sprang from between her lips unbidden. He did so like to be praised repeatedly.

Her eyes closed of their own accord, slender neck elongating and pressing her head into the pillow as waves of pleasure wracked her body.

"...oh.... oh oh..!" F’lahminn gasped in time to his cock railing inside her.

The whole effect of his body weight on her, his tongue in her mouth and his cock buried in her to the hilt was exquisite.

She raised her hands, wrapping them around his shoulders.

F’lahminn wanted to tell him that he felt so incredibly good on her and in her and that she appreciated the care and consideration he had shown her, but she appeared to have lost the ability to make anything other than pleasured nonsense.

All she could manage was to rock her hips and hang onto him like he was her anchor in a raging storm.

The way she clung to him was searingly sweet. 

Nero wasn’t used to liking that, either.

He had thought he knew himself well enough to find her gentleness something of a turn off, preferring women who could meet him in strength and physicality. This had generally meant other Garleans soldiers, although combat trained Elezen, Hyur and occasionally Miqo’te who had taken an interest in him had not been turned down by Nero.

F’lahminn was a rare exception to the rule and on the occasions he had strayed from his “type” in the past Nero had found it somewhat bothersome to have to constantly be aware of his strength and movements, rather than being free to let go of his rigid control and enjoy sex.

But there was nothing bothersome about fucking F’lahminn. 

He was finding himself enjoying being considerate of her as she was considerate of him.

He liked the way she sung his name, she noticed it instantly and repeated it several more times.

He liked to be praised and whenever the ability to form words visited her for a few moments she made sure to adore him.

“You feel so good.” F’lahminn crooned softly, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and pressing her face into the pillow, her entire body arching. “Oh…Nero…. Nero… please!”

One hand left her hip, moving between their bodies to stroke her clit teasingly. She hit c-sharp again as she cried out and Nero fully groaned in utter delight, slowing his pace lest he hit peak before she did.

He would never allow for that, instead focusing on moving slow and deep in time to his thumb caressing her clit.

She tried to move her hips, still wanting to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her but he growled in her ear hotly;

“Relax. Just go with it.”

“oooh!” F’lahminn gasped, trying not to flail. She couldn’t possibly relax. Not with lightening lancing down every limb and her spine sparking.

The way her cunt was gripping his length as climax built in her was almost too much for him. Even his vaunted control was starting to slip. He drew his lips down her neck, trying to distract himself, rasping his teeth down her throat.

“AH!”

F’lhaminn fully trilled top C as orgasm hit her, making her body jolt beneath Nero’s as the pleasure overload cascaded through her.

Nero grabbed her hips, surging deep inside her, mindful of her desire to fall pregnant and finally allowing himself the freedom to cum. He hadn’t been entirely sure he could hold it back any longer, if he was honest.

"Oh... oh Gods." F'lahminn murmured, holding his forearms tightly. The sensation of him inside her, buried to the hilt and the hot sensation of his cum filling her was exquisite.

She had never felt so full in her life, her legs still bent up, twitching and shaking violently.

A glorious lethargy settled into Nero’s limbs, eyes closed and face pressed into the pillow, feeling F’lahminn tremble as she still clung him, humming melodically.

He vaguely noted he was slightly out of breath. It had been a while since he got so caught up in pleasing his partner he had forgotten to control his breathing but there was something deliciously captivating about F’lahminn’s carnal songs.

And something rather pleasing about knowing he was the only person who would get to hear them. He fully admitted to being jealous and possessive of what was his. 

Unsurprisingly when so much had been taken away from him.

Nero rolled off her after a moment or two, flopping down on his side of the bed with a glorious stretch and facing away from her.

He wouldn’t complain if she wanted to lie against him, so long as she didn’t expect him to hold her. He absolutely did not snuggle and quickly feigned to sleep to avoid being asked too.

F’lahminn was more amused than anything else at Nero’s rather clichéd act of rolling over and going straight to sleep, momentarily stretching herself before rising. She was certainly no longer a romantic the way she had been as a younger woman and was slightly grateful for Nero’s tactless performance.

The idea of tenderly holding one another seemed far too intimate and would require a level of trust and vulnerability neither was yet willing to give a stranger. She redressed in her small clothes quickly, exiting the room on silent feet.

Nero peeked open an eye to look out the door F’lahminn had just disappeared through. 

Was she going to sleep on the couch now that she had gotten what she wanted out of him? 

He scowled at that, feeling slightly used and simultaneously confused and annoyed with himself for giving two shits about what the woman was doing. He forced himself not to dwell on it, climbing until the covers and snuggling in, defiant that he did not care that F’lahminn had abandoned the bed so promptly.

For a few moments he thought he heard her moving about in the other room, and assumed her to be finding blankets and pillows enough to be comfortable on the adequate but not luxurious couch.

Nero had just about talked himself into apathy about the Miqo’te’s behavior when F’lahmin returned, the weight of her knee on the bed rousing him out of the half a doze he had sort of been drifting off into.

“Nero?” F’lahminn whispered, not sure if he was genuinely sleeping now.

“Mmmm?” he mumbled, annoyed and assuming she had decided the couch was too cold for her tastes. The less than pleased tone out of the blond Garlean almost made F’lahminn giggle but instead she offered softly;

“Do you want a cheese sandwich?”

Nero’s eyes flung themselves open instantly. 

He most absolutely did want a cheese sandwich. 

He rolled over to discover she had abandoned the bed only in order to make snacks and it occurred to him neither of them had eaten any dinner. 

His stomach growled to see the simple meals she carried and F’lahminn gave a soft little giggle at the noise, tail fluffing in amusement with a swish-swish motion behind her.

A sandwich for each of them, with the last of his pickles neatly sliced and divided between the two plates and two bottles of pop held under an elbow. 

Nero sat up, reaching with greedy hands for the plate she offered him, easily able to grip one of the bottles of drink from under her arm. He was tall, and his bed was not that wide.

“Thanks.”

F’lahminn gave him a soft, gentle smile as she settled herself back in bed, although staying diligently to the side he wasn’t.

Her tone slightly saucy as she replied;

“Same to you.”


	11. Ala Mhigo - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what Alphinaud is doing in Ala Mhigo

Livia van Junius, Legatus of the XIVth Legion of the Imperial Army and Viceroy of Ala Mhigo was bored utterly witless.

She was sat upon the Ala Mhigan throne, one leg crossed over the other, one arm propped upon the arm of the throne and her helmeted head propped against her hand.

It was a good thing she was wearing her helmet because she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

There were a total of 6 Castrum in Ala Mhigo, comprising of an assortment of Rem, Pyr and Sas ranked leaders and each boasting a squadron of 80 men or more.

Each of these Praefectus Castoreum were at attention, in 2 neat lines, awaiting to deliver their reports on the state of their Castra and the peoples that they oversaw.

Alphinaud was doing to majority of the listening to these reports, as Livia had given up after the second one had sounded, to her at least, exactly the same as the first.

Alphinaud, however, was in his element, asking all sorts of leading questions that coerced the speaker into revealing more than he ought.

It was this skill, which she fully admitted she lacked, that had caused Livia to seek Alphinaud out and beg his assistance in the seemingly impossible task set before her by her Lord and Master, Emperor Gaius zos Baelsar.

Livia had not taken Alphinaud into her confidences to explain the Emperor’s motivations for finally attending to the region. The only thing Alphinaud knew was that Gaius has endorsed Livia to come up with a strategy to bring the Garlean forces in the area home at long last and promoted her to “van” in order to accomplish it.

Whatever Gaius had promised Livia in return for this monumentally impossible task being performed must have been very rich indeed for the prideful Livia to fully beg.

She was a tactician on the battlefield it was true and a skilled one at that but she had no mind for the kind of diplomacy that the hand-over of Ala Mhigo would require.

Alphinaud had agreed instantly, of course, willing to do anything to help bring peace to the war torn region.

Livia blinked rapidly, trying to remain conscious as Alphinaud was offering a polite bow to the armor clad, masked Praefectus.

“We thank you for your diligent and thorough report. I have a singular question? Upon whose authority did you increase the required tithe from 1/3rd of the grains to ½?” Alphinaud questioned. 

He had been given an Iyi title that marked him a Princeps Senatus and indicated his status in the Garlean court was not elected by popular vote, but a position given directly from the hand of the Emperor via Livia van Junius.

As such he was fully within his rights to question the men thusly and the fact he stood beside the Viceroy marked him as powerful within Garlemald despite being of aan.

“The Viceroy, sir. Supplies were late in coming from the Capital and…”

“I’ve heard enough. Thank you, Praefectus.” Alphinaud nodded. The man bowed, looking to Livia who dismissed him with a bored flick of her fingers.

She honestly wasn’t sure why Alphinaud was grilling these men. 

They already knew the Viceory was craven and depraved and had been mismanaging Ala Mhigo terribly.

A member of the Galvus line but only a lesser cousin who stood no chance of ever taking the Throne even if it had not been usurped from Varis.

A piggy man, who had been coddled by a controlling, overbearing mother he had grown into the sort of ineffective, over self-indulgent adult who still threw temper tantrums when he did not get his own way despite being fully 32 years of age.

He been using the Ala Mhigan palace as his own personal Pleasure Dome and leaving the day to day overseeing of the country to a handful of Pyr and Sas who were neither qualified for it, nor unified in the task.

The Ala Mhigan Resistance had succeeded in ambushing and murdering the current Viceroy, luring him to the Lochs with rumor of a secret cache of the Mad Kings’ gold and drowning him at the Saltery.

Such a blatant attack upon Garlean rule could surely not fail to go unpunished and the entire country was on edge, fearing retaliation, especially once Livia van Junius had shown up the XIVth.

For the prideful Emperor to send his most loyal, and unstable Tribuni to resolve the issue spoke troublingly of the depth of violence that the Emperor was willing to unleash upon Ala Mhigo once more.

No good could come of Gaius zos Baelsar's most temperamental Legatus being given free reign of Ala Mhigo as Viceroy.

“The next one better say something interesting or I will shoot him in the fucking face.” Livia muttered, sotto voice.

“They’ve all been saying interesting things, you’re just not listening right.” Alphinaud replied patiently. “And we agreed no shooting people unless they personally insult Gaius.”

“Ugh.” Livia groused and flopped her head from one arm to the other. She had never suffered anything she did not like silently.

But the reward, Livia… focus on the reward – she reminded herself. 

What had been promised to her, if she could pull this off, was very sweet indeed.

Her displeasure caused the current speaker a moment of hesitation before he resumed speaking of his dealings with the local Beast Tribes, the Ananta and the Quirin.

Livia’s reputation for being unstable preceded her, making them nervous.

“I see, and what is the difference between the Ananta wearing blue and those that wear purple?” Alphinaud asked but received only silence in response. “You are unsure? Surely someone who has been stationed in Ala Mhigo for 14 summers ought be able to at least tell me the names of the differing factions?”

“The purple ones are more likely to join the Resistance.” The man offered with a shrug.

Understanding the Beast Tribes in the area was something he viewed to be not his job in running the Castrum and therefore he had put absolutely no thought towards it.

He mainly just considered the snake like Ananta’s to be a disposable annoyance and to be vastly unlucky to be the Praefectus Castoreum of a Castra located so close to many of the Beast Tribes’ hovels.

If they would just sod off somewhere else it would make his life a lot easier, he felt.

A couple more questions and he was dismissed as quickly as the others, Livia contributing nothing beyond a flick or two of her armored fingers.

The final few reports continued in much the same way, Livia utterly distracted by trying to decide if she could lower to strength in her side blaster enough to flick Alphinaud in one of his pointed ears without actually having to move from the Throne she lounged upon.

She didn’t want to put a hole through his ear, or maim him. Not yet. Just annoy him as much as he was annoying her with his ceaseless questioning.

The delivering of the reports, which should have taken no more than an hour, had been extended to 4 and she was well sick of it. 

The final person stepped forwards to deliver a report. She stood in stark contrast to the others, both by her age and gender but by the fact she was attired half in Ala Mhigan fashions, half in Imperial Armor.

Fordola rem Lupis of the Crania Lupi.

Children of Ala Mhigan dignitaries that Gaius had personally selected for special treatment. They had been born after the occupation and known only Garlean rule. They had been raised to think that Ala Mhigo was crushed because of the corruption of the Mad King. 

That if they could accept their lot, cease the constant resistance and work with the Empire to become strong then Ala Mhigo could stand as a province of the Empire and earn thereby earn a measure freedom.

Zenos, when he had been Viceroy of Ala Mhigo had been all to glad to taunt the Crani Lupi with the fact that this was lies.

Pointing out that Ala Mhigo had been naught more than a stepping stone to Gaius’ failed Eorzean invasion. And that Doma had been a prosperous nation and it had been brought to heel just as savagely as the Civil War weakened Ala Mhigo.

Zenos wanted naught more than to breed resentment, and goad people into meeting him with violence, feeding him the battle he craved.

Citizen, Ala Mhigan, Resistance Member, it mattered little to him.

He had toyed with Fordola’s dreams of a proud, unoccupied Ala Mhigo as equally as he had crushed Resistance attempts upon his life. The state of the country was irrelevant to Zenos yae Galvus and his actions showed it.

Now that Gauis zos Baelsar sat on the Throne, however, the brain-washing the Crania Lupi had been subjected to was not wholly unrealistic.

Alphinaud listened to Fordola’s reports in silence. Her report was worrying. A poorly judged attempt to coerce subsurviance from the Qaylana Ananta had left the Brood Mothers’ daughter dead. 

Fordola seemed content to sweep this under the rug as a simple mistake but Alphinaud knew better than to discount the grief of a Mother. Beast Tribe or not.

For the first time that day, however, the Elezen youth asked no questions and offered no tart commentary.

He felt sorry for the Black Wolf’s Cubs.

It was obvious that the other Praefectus viewed them as a charity case. A pet project of a General who had entirely forgotten them in his ascension to Emperor.

Similarly the Ala Mhigans viewed them as naught more than traitors, drinking whatever fetid, muddy waters the Empire chose to bestow upon them as if it were the finest champagne. 

In truth they were little more than children, barely older than Alphinaud himself, thrust into an adult’s war, manipulated and neglected by a consummately manipulative, selfish man.

It was a sobering reminder for Alphinaud that for all of Dainty’s beliefs that Garlemald’s shade of grey currently ran lighter than Eorzea’s neither wore a particularly pale shade of grey.

“How quickly can we get supplies here to feed the troops in the Castra and have then start dispensing rations to the populace?” Alphinaud asked Livia quietly. “A week?”

She gave an amused snort;

“A week?! That is most insulting to our Lord Gaius’ efforts in augmenting our airship capabilities.” 

Livia van Junius credited what was actually the work of the Grand Minister of Innovation, Cid nan Garlond, to her Emperor and always would. “They can be here by the hour…if I feel so inclined to make that order.”

Her tone of voice highly suggested she was not feeling nearly so magnanimous after being forced to listen to reports and Alphinaud talk this entire time. “I hope this pleased you as equally as it displeased me so that at least one of us got a little satisfaction out of it.” 

Livia, quarreling with Alphinaud, ignoring the final salutes that were given as the Praefectus filed out, their troops and escorts waiting for them outside the throne room.

“It were necessary, but I cannot say it pleased me.” Alphinaud informed her as she rose to stretch. “We need to get supplies here. And we need Dainty.” 

“No, we bloody don’t. They’ve not earned the Empire’s good graces and everyone knows where Lady Garlond goes so does her sodding husband.”

Livia’s jealous hatred of Cid was old news to almost the entirety of Garlemald at this point although many remarked in surprise that Livia van Junius would be polite, and even kind to Lady Garlond when the Grand Minister was not present.

Most assumed it was because the Au Ra so gentle, and soft spoken that none could ever be angry with her, unaware it was because Livia had never forgotten that it was Lady Garlond who had saved Gaius’ life during Varis’ rebellion and it was Lady Garlond who frequently championed that Gaius ought take Livia as his wife when most felt he ought marry from within the ranks of Nobility.

Alphinaud gave a little chuckle, sweeping some white hair out of his dark blue eyes.

“While you were struggling to remain conscious I have learned the following information. The Resistance is desperate, and they are slowly starving to death. They are pressing upon the Beast Tribes, who are in turn being pressed upon by each of their own warring factions and the uncaring and equally hungry occupiers. What do desperate Beast Tribes summon, Livia?”

“Eikons.”

“Precisely and although it is worth trying to delay it by handing out rations there is likely nothing you or I can do to avert a summoning at this point. You’ve seen the Ananta; their jewelry and clothing is covered in crystals.”

“Then we demand they relinquish it.”

“Which will do little more than almost guarantee a summoning. They are already desperate! Think, Livia! Imagine this a battlefield, you know your enemy is about to unleash their best and most devastating weapon. What do you do?” Alphinaud pressed.

“You find a way to mitigate the damage and do your best to ensure they are incapable of firing a second shot.”

“Precisely. Is there any weaponry in Ala Mhigo capable of putting down a Primal before it can get close enough to temper people?”

Once upon a time Livia would have had complete faith in the Garlean technology and weaponry in the land to deal with any Eikon summoned but witnessing their true terrifying power up close, and almost losing her mind and her life to it had given her more respect for the power of the False Gods.

“The canon, maybe, if the Eikon were slow and lumbering. It cannot be aimed fast enough for a quick moving Eikon.” She gave an annoyed growl, realizing nothing that could assist them in taking down a Primal could get to them as fast or as effectively as Dainty could.

Nor would Dainty’s arrival in Ala Mhigo trigger any additional panic among the population, unlike the arrival of a large amount of warmachina. Most would not even notice it. “We need the Eikon Slayer.”

“Finally, we agree. I shall send a discreet message to my sister and in the meantime, try not to shoot anyone.”

“I make no promises.” Livia vowed as the Elezen departed.


	12. Alisaie's Favorite Past Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dainty, she never ever gets to have any fun, ever /sarcasm

“Alphinaud requests you randomly take it into your head to visit Ala Mhigo. Immediately.” Alisaie informed the petite, mint green haired Au Ra manipulating dough into neat twist shapes in the large kitchen as a pretty white haired Miqo’te kneaded a chocolate colored dough beside her.

“I should really rather not.” Dainty answered immediately, eyes flashing to the side to cast a glance at F’lahminn.

If she went there would be no one for F’lahminn to turn to if her marriage of a week turned violent.

“Do not fret for me, Dainty. I assure you I can take care of myself.” F’lahminn gave a little laugh. “I told you, I barely see my new husband, he is always working on whatever it is he does and by the time we’ve eaten and had sex, its late and he goes right to sleep.”

Cid made a slight disgusted noise, Dainty wasn’t sure if it was at F’lahminn’s openness regarding intercourse with Nero or that the other Garlean was so ungentlemanly as to roll over and ignore her once they were done being intimate.

F’lahminn honestly did not mind.

Nero was clearly already tired and over worked by the time he returned home yet still made diligently sure to provide her with the opportunity to fall pregnant.

She frankly had no complaints.

Cid promptly stole a lump of sugared dough and kissed Dainty’s cheek before he escaped to the front room where he could sit and hope for more tastes of whatever the pair was making.

He was very happy that the black had been taken out of Dainty’s hair, and her curls restored. The mint green tresses were currently tied up in a pretty chignon to avoid the inevitable hair in the food, if left loose, however.

With little to occupy her time F’lahminn had quickly taken to visiting Dainty and Alisaie every chance she could, usually showing up in time for breakfast and staying until such time as she would head home to start preparing dinner for herself and Nero.

“You do need a very specific type of granite to redo upstairs, perhaps it originally came from Ala Mhigo.” Tartaru suggested. She had returned from Kugane earlier than morning and, like Cid, was hanging around hoping for tastes of Dainty’s cooking but she was at least attempting to do some work while she was at it.

Dainty's rose maze had a Pagoda at the center had been damaged the past winter and Tartaru was calculating how much fruit would need to be sold from the orchard to defray the cost.

Cid was wealthy enough to afford just about anything Dainty and her expensive tastes desired but since the Au Ra had made the grounds profitable Tartaru saw no point in drawing upon the Garlond fortune for Dainty's home improvement projects when her gardening projects could bear the cost.

“A very good thought.” Cid commented. 

Dainty had been talking about gutting and revamping the lavish upstairs bedroom that had once been his parents recently. He had no attachment to the room, despite not wanting to dwell in it himself and had given her free reign over the Estates years ago.

Dainty had been perpetually thwarted, however, by the fact that the room was half tile, half carpet and the tile was stunning soft purple brown granite shot through with flakes of gold mica and deep purple veins.

She wanted to tile the entire room in the same granite but had been utterly unable to find the original source.

Tartaru’s suggestion that it had come from Ala Mhigo’s once lauded quarries, long defunct since its Garlean occupation, was actually a very clever one.

“I suppose with Alisaie here there is someone available to punch Nero in the head if he does not treat F’lahminn right.” Dainty mused softly, drawing a giggle from F’lahminn:

“Dainty, I cannot think why you vouched for Nero if you are so set on the notion he will abuse me at his earliest convenience.”

“As much as I do enjoy clocking Nero in the head, he won’t, and Dainty knows it. She’s just being stubborn because she doesn’t want to leave her roses.” Alisaie diagnosed.

“Tartaru and I shall water them precisely to your exact instructions, Dainty” F’lahminn promised, liberally adding chilled chocolate chips to the dough she had now sufficiently kneaded and twisting it into a pretty sunburst shape.

Dainty gave an annoyed sigh, it wasn’t her roses she worried for so much as she would have attempted to find any excuse not to have to leave the Garlond Estates after they had only just returned from Ishgard.

She liked her home, and she liked being in her home with her husband. She had had her fill running here there and everywhere around Eorzea while the Scions still lived and all over Dravania before her marriage to Cid, in her opinion.

Outside of the Garlond Estates she had to be careful to maintain the deception that she was Aurora and not Dainty and although she was good at doing so she found it exhausting to maintain for long periods. After playing the roll so intensely in Ishgard she had been looking forwards to just getting to be **Dainty** for a good long while. 

“Will Gaius excuse you from your duties a little, my love?” Dainty asked Cid softly.

She would go without him, but she didn’t want to and Alphinaud clearly needed her arrive discreetly, or else he would not have asked her to invent a reason to visit.

The excuse of a Society Wife taking a jaunt to look for home improvement resources would look a lot more convincing if her Husband was beside her. Even in Garlean occupied territories all care was to be taken to prevent word of Dainty and the Scions dwelling within Garlemald leaking beyond those that already knew.

There were yet prices on their heads.

“Probably not but I think I could convince Gaius my duties ought to send me to Ala Mhigo temporarily. As a Legatus Livia van Junius is entitled to an armor upgrade, as much as I dislike working on weaponry I am willing to compromise on occasion. I can make the point that Livia’s armor ought to interface with her White Devil and since I’m the only one who knows how its flight protocols work, it has to be me.”

“Alright, I guess we can go.” Dainty sighed, not entirely looking forwards to it.

Alisaie giggled at the Au Ra over dramatic antics;

“Cheer up Dainty, at least if its Alphinaud calling for you, you can bet there is a good chance you’ll be asked to punch a Primal in the very near future.”

 

* * * *

 

“Now who do you suppose that is?” F’lahminn asked the delicate, lavender haired Lalafell at her side.

They had been assessing Dainty’s rose garden, the woman herself having departed with Cid for Ala Mhigo directly after lunch, following Alphinaud’s requests of “Immediately.”

The sandy haired, dark grey clad visitor approached the house and, finding it empty then turned to find F’lahminn and Tartaru, the Lalafel marching towards him quick authority.

“The Minister and Lady are travelling, can I help you?” Tartaru asked, full of bravado and mindful of her role as Comptroller of the Garlond Estates.

Cid paid her quite handsomely to manage the place so that he didn’t have to, after all and she had always been diligent to earn every cent of gil. She would accept not charity.

“Er, hello, yes I think you can. I am Jenomis cen Lexantale and… I say, excuse me but are you the famed Songstress of Ul’Dah?”

The man blinked at F’lahminn several times, utterly distracted from his greeting Tartaru by the beautiful white haired Miqo’te beside her.

“I am, sir.” F’lahminn gave a graceful Eorzean bow. She may have been renown for her music but her movements and dancing had always complimented her tunes in a way few could match or exceed. “Are… are you quite alright?”

Jenomis cen Lexantale was fully gaping at her, eyes half bugged out of his head.

Tartaru was strongly considering kicking the man in the shins to make him mind his manners when he suddenly snapped into movement, bowing very deeply.

“Forgive me. I am just utterly staggered to find you here, in Garlemald, of all places when I am in such dire need of your talents.”

“I’m sorry but I am retired.”

“Please at least allow me to explain! I am the Principal of the Imperial Theatre company and I am in one Hells of a pickle. A veritable tangle of problems that only you can unweave.”

“That is unfortunate for you but again, I am retired.” F’lahminn said very firmly.

“If you do not cease being rude I shall summon the security droids, and her husband and whatever is left of you can take this up with Nero xe Scaeva.” Tartaru scowled at Jenomis, reminding him firmly of his manners. “She already told you no.”

He fell instantly silent, suitably chastised and suddenly perceiving what the beautiful Songstress was doing in Garlemald.

Jenomis suddenly recalled hearing on the state controlled public radio that Nero had been married alongside his advantageous promotion.

Of course, the Praefectus Totaleum Immortum would want one of the most sort-after women in the world as his wife. 

“My apologies, Lady Scaeva.” Jenomis bowed. 

Insulting the wife of the second most important men in Garlemald was pure folly, no matter how excited he was to see the woman.

“That is better, now, let us try this again. I am Tartaru Taru, Comptroller of the Garlond Estates when the Minister and Lady are travelling. State your business or leave.” Tartaru ordered, instantly taking Jenomis in dislike.

Jenomis cleared his throat a little, still struggling to drag his eyes away from F’lahminn. The rumors of her beauty really did not do her justice.

“I am looking to arrange with Lady Garlond the return of a large number of Doman kimono she was kind enough to lend the Theatre Company. Unfortunately, my soprano has turned into a Prima Donna of the highest order and I have been forced to call off the entire production before her antics result in my actors quitting en masse.” 

F’lahminn gave a little giggle, more willing to forgive than Tartaru and well familiar with the type of diva antics of which Jenomis referred. 

“Let me guess, you dared to lessen her part?” F’lahminn asked with a soft smile, her ears flattening just a touch in her amusement.

She may be retired but she still enjoyed the theatre and hearing all the stories and scandals that happened backstage.

“I merely pointed out that if she had 2 solos and an aria there would not be time to actually tell the story and allow the other actors their fair share of the spotlight.” Jenomis sighed, long suffering. “As she is the only one with the range to sing the aria that closes the 1st act she threatened to quit if I cut her solos. Now everyone else in the play is threatening to quit over her stealing the majority share of the limelight! As much as it pains me, for the good of the company, I had decided to scrap all work on the Doman play and begin auditions for an entirely new piece. Until I saw you….!”

“Tut!”

A sharp noise from Tartaru reminded Jenomis firmly not to push the issue. 

“As much as it might be fun to teach an uppity Soprano a thing or two I am a newlywed, and a traditional one at that. My priority is having my husbands’ dinner on the table when he returns home.” F’lahminn offered, having no interest in the kind of late nights that rehearsals of a large stage production would involve. 

“What if I personally guaranteed you would be home by 6?….5? ….4?” Jenomis bartered, F’lahminn looking skeptical until he reached a number where she genuinely felt she would have enough time to make dinner comfortably and be home long before Nero.

“Well….” F’lahminn began, twisting her fingers together.

It would be nice to have something to occupy her time until she fell pregnant other than spending time with Dainty. 

It was wonderful to see her friend again but F’lahminn could not help but be jealous of Dainty’s life. Her great big house, and bountiful gardens, the adoring way her handsome husband looked at her as if she had fallen from the Heavens themselves.

F’lahminn did not begrudge Dainty the pleasant life she had found for herself, but it was awfully hard not to be envious in a way F’lahminn felt most guilty about. 

Similarly F’lahminn was not dissatisfied with her choice to wed Nero, she had requested little and been given everything she asked for.

If anything the man was more generous than she had expected, giving her a handful of credits, what the Garlean Army used to pay its soldiers, so that she could redeem them for gil of her own without prompting.

Nero had also been fully honest that, although his promotion would include a generous wage increase, the building personal projects that had failed to gain traction with the Emperor, as well as the purchase of unearthed Allagans tomestones had left him with significant debts.

F’lahminn had agreed those ought be discharged before a larger dwelling was procured, however Nero had told her she was welcome to start shifting books out of the room he called an “office” as it was mostly just storage to create her desired nursery.

Her singing had always won her praise, perhaps it would help soothe some of her jealousy if she had something productive with which to dwell upon.

“… I would not have to do any love scenes, would I?”

F’lahminn recalled how quickly Nero had thrown a line about “faithfulness” and suspected him to have jealousy tendencies and she would prefer not to kiss anyone other than her husband, even on stage.

As she had previously stated, her ideas on marriage and what was acceptable of a married woman tended to be closer to old fashioned Hyur’s than other Seeker of the Sun Miqo’te.

“Those can be blocked so that the lights fade before the kiss or performed in silhouette so that it needs not be actually be you in the embrace.” Jenomis promised diligently and meant it.

There honestly was not a lot he would not do to ensure F’lahminn’s participation.

He was practically salivating at the idea of firing the uppity soprano having secured a more seasoned performer to replace her.

“And you will take care to ensure I won’t be accused of diva behavior myself for leaving early? Or treated as a usurper who trod on undeservingly abused toes?”

“Lady Scaeva, the Company might kiss your feet whence you appear.” Jenomis assured her, then chuckled self-deprecatingly; “I’m known as a harsh task master and being forced to end rehearsals on scenes in which you are involved in at 4pm, on the dot, will be a pleasant change for them. Not to mention the relief of having the over dramatic soprano replaced.”

“She will be paid a portion of ticket sales, I assume?” Tartaru asked, eyes sharp, refusing to let F’lahminn be taken advantage of. It was not hard to assume Jenomis would not feel the need to pay Lady Scaeva, assuming her well taken care of.

“O..of course. 7% of any ticket sale after costs are deducted, as a guest star of her caliber would command.”

“That all seems very reasonable. Alright, I shall do it.”


	13. A Discovery. A Meal. And a Complete Failure to Make a Connection.

Nero looked up at the massive Allagans weapon with an odd sort of befuddlement and grudging respect on his features, sucking on his bottom lip before muttering to the empty air;

“You know, Garlond. I under estimated you... and your Father.”

It wasn't an easy thing to admit for Nero but the fact remained that there was no one else to be blamed but Midas nan Garlond for the fact that an Anti-Eikon relic of ancient Allagans construction had been somehow smuggled into Garlemald and hidden below a second, much less powerful weapon as a smoke screen.

The canon above had been placed by Midas nan Garlond when he still lived, supposedly in error as the weapon was aimed directly at the palace and "could not be moved." 

As the facility diagnostics fed themselves into his armor it became clear that the placement of the canon had never been an accident. Nor had its targeting function been damaged in transport. That had been intentionally turned off by certain white haired Engineers

The Praefectus Totaleum Immortum turned his attention to the information scrolling across the holographic screen in his palm, blue eyes quickly skim reading what he had already confirmed. The canon was a distraction to hide what truly lurked in the depths of the facility.

Midas nan Garlond had been looking into the face of Emperor Solus zos Galvus, and blatantly lying to him, an indefensible act of Treason, for decades.

Nero was genuinely impressed that Midas nan Garlond had gotten the Ultima Weapon out of Ala Mhigo and to Garlemald without there being record of it other than a few short notes about the “delivery” being left to “sleep in the darkness.”

Nero was also begrudgingly impressed that Midas' son had managed to, somehow, convince manipulative, stubborn, ambitious Gaius not the bring Ultima Weapon to bare against Erozea after the Agrius was lost at Silvertear Lake.

Somehow Cid’s talk of Gaius’ honor had managed to impinge through Gaius burning ambitions to regain his favor with the Emperor.

No doubt it helped that the Garlond family had the favor of the former Emperor and even before his Father died Cid had the authority to block all access to the facility but once Gaius took the throne, that privilege was no longer afforded Cid. Just as the Grand Minister of Innovation was no longer capable of blocking Nero, as Praefectus Totaleum Immortum, from accessing anything he saw fit.

Instead Cid had had to play a devilishly difficult game of bargaining that his own inventions were more valuable to Gaius than the Ultima Weapon was, made easier by the fact that Gaius had risen to the Throne on a platform of Coalition, not Conquest. A lack of warfare aside, this was still Gaius zos Baelsar, who did not suffer being denied a shiny new warmachina quietly.

The download of information ceased with a soft little "plip", leaving Nero able to interface with the facility and access any information, schematics and past work done on the Ultima Weapon directly from his armor and acquainting him the the fact that the Ultima Weapon was functional.

Nero wet his lips, the skin on his arms prickling with anticipation as he looked up again at the massive, steel clad mechanical beast like one might look at an angel descending from the Heavens.

She was a beautiful machine, all sleek lines and terrifying claws. She needed nothing more than her internal circuitry to be converted from running on aether to ceruleum, and her primary power source identified and replenished. A colossal job, no doubt, but not one that was above Nero's ability.

A thrill ran down Nero's spine unbidden, almost quickening his breath and making him salivate.

"Cid, Cid, Cid... you complete and utter fool." Nero observed, a dark smile curling his lip and all momentary thoughts of having underestimated the other Engineer vanishing from his mind. "What sort of stubborn idiot clings so utterly to their refusal to build weapons as to ignore this?! .... Well, we already know the answer to that, don't we precious?" Nero ran a crimson armor clad hand lovingly over Ultima Weapon's massive leg. "The Garlond kind of idiot."

They were both Engineers, and Cid nan Garlond had always been possessed of an equally inquiring, avid mind as his own, Nero was well aware. The Engineer in Cid must have salivated over the technology in the Ultima Weapon just as much as Nero currently was. And utterly refused to even glance at it, forever tarnishing him as a fool, in Nero's opinion.

The blond Garlean remained completely oblivious to sheer depth of will it must have taken on Cid’s part, all these years, to refuse to even acknowledge the existence of such an exquisite piece of Allagans technology. 

Nero was not so good a person as to realize that some things sleeping in the darkness ought be left there, Garlemald did not need any more weapons, it possessed plenty already.

He wanted to play with the shiny new toy he had discovered.

Ultima Weapon would be his greatest achievement yet.

What Cid refused to touch Nero would bring to life.

Long had Nero’s abilities as an Engineer been overlooked in favor of Cid's work and finally Nero’s tirelessly awaited perfect opportunity had come to him. He would show the world, once and for all, who was the Superior Engineer.

Nero had promised Dainty he would cause Cid no harm by direct interference, but he had never promised to not out-do him.

A small black crystal on a length of hempen rope by Ultima’s mammoth left foot caught Nero’s attention as he admired the Ultima Weapon's cold, black metal surface.

Knowing what he did of the Allagans Nero could assume it was a key of some kind, that ancient civilization always did have an habit of hiding important mechanical triggers in seemingly innocuous places and objects.

Nero picked it up, shoving it in his pocket for later before casually strolling over to the elevator to be taken to the higher levels.

He would do himself no favors starting his full inspection of the weapon now, it was already growing late and he was already tired, having had his fill of investigating the canon above before stumbling across this buried secret.

His wife, a thought that still made Nero both grimace and roll his eyes, had spoken of making a particular specialty for dinner that night when he had left her in the morning. 

Supposedly the particular meal was good luck for newlyweds looking to produce children quickly.

Nero was amused by F’lahminn’s Eorzean traditions but had refrained from mocking the superstitions that, to him, seemed archaic and foolish. He had promised her kindness and respect and likely it would not take long before living in such a learned society as Garlemald taught F’lahminn to abandon her silly fallacies anyway. 

No need for him to chide her for them.

As Nero arrived home he had to admit his apartment had never smelt better, mouth instantly watering at the savory smells wafting through-out the dwelling.

Nero could cook well enough to feed himself. He had grown up in a family that had to make do with very little, after all, and stretch every morsel of food to its utmost. He knew how to slow cook hard, cheap cuts of meat in a stew to render them tender.

He knew how to make gravy to disguise the fact that the vegetables were over ripe and at the edge of spoiling.

But the fact of the matter was that Nero rarely did any of these things.

The Army fed him a nutritionally satisfactory diet, so that was what he had subsisted on much of his career. Only when he reached the rank of sas and was entitled to private quarters with a kitchen did he cook for himself.

By then he had far, far better things to do with his time than cook. Simple boiled vegetables and unfussy sautéed meat of some description made up much of his cuisine as his attention was most ardently fixated on whatever project he was working on, not the desires of his stomach.

At least until F’lahminn had shown up.

“Good evening.” F’lahminn smiled in welcome as the tall, blond man entered the apartment. She was just juggling a hot loaf of bread from the oven skillfully, setting it on the counter to cool alongside what appeared to be a well-made looking pie.

Several side dishes of assorted things were still requiring stirring on the stove.

Nero surveyed the repast.  
Finding the Ultima Weapon had put him in an excellent mood and there was clear amusement in his tone as he drawled lazily;

“I am not entirely sure how stuffing oneself so full you can no longer move is supposed to benefit conception, if I’m honest, but perhaps your Gods know something I don’t.” 

F’lahminn gave a little giggle;

“The tradition dates to the 4th Umbral Era, during a time when arranged marriages between couples who did not speak the same tongue were not uncommon. Tis my theory the meal was supposed to be a common ground for otherwise awkward couples to meet upon.”

“Not an unsound theory.” Nero mused.

When framed in that context he could not argue with its function. A heavy meal would also make those that partook of it sleepy, helping to calm jitters and nerves between young brides and grooms under the pressure to beget the next Royal Heir promptly.

“There is beer in the ice chest for you. Dainty said it a brand you are fond of.” F’lahminn offered and caught the snarky expression that crossed Nero’s face at Lady Garlond's name. “What exactly did you do to Cid nan Garlond to cause such ire between you and Dainty?”

“Me? Nothing! It is what that spoiled, coddled, over privileged Daddy’s boy did to me!” Nero insisted, instantly slightly indignant and going foraging for the afore mentioned beer.

He could use a celebratory drink after what he had stumbled across. 

“Alright.” F’lahminn agreed patiently. “What did he do to you?”

Nero shot her a sour look, not really wanting to rehash 3 decades or more of snubs and slights against him but the look F’lahminn gave him was so open, and accepting he found himself lured in by her gentle expression, her head tipped slightly to the side, listening.

F’lahminn almost regretted asking as Nero launched into a chronologically arranged List every jeer, every insult and disrespect. 

He spoke of himself and Cid being allowed to sit the entrance exams to Magitek school early, a huge honor that should have won Nero acclaim from the small provincial town he was from.

Instead all he ever heard was how lucky he was to be going to school alongside Midas nan Garlond’s boy.

Where Cid was instantly included Nero was viewed as a charity case. A scrappy wild card that no one really knew how to take, and the few attempts made by his fellows at befriending him had been utterly rebuffed by the boy.

While Cid had quickly surrounded himself with close comrades such as Jenomis Nero ate his lunches alone and had arrived at Magitek School so insufficiently fed from his poor upbringing that he was pulled out of class on a daily basis by the School Medicus’ so that they could make sure he downed 2 cans of disgusting vanilla custard nutritional supplement.

Prizes that Nero felt ought to have been his were continuously awarded to Cid.

Accolades and rewards Nero felt he truly deserved were instead given to someone who already had everything else.

Cid came from wealth and rank and privilege. He already had everything he could ever need to be guaranteed a very lucrative place in Garlean society.

His brilliant mind was just icing on top of the giant, heaping, bountiful dessert he had already been served.

Meanwhile Nero, who desperately needed to excel, to be noticed, to be praised had ever come in second, unable to surpass the weight of the Garlond name.

F’lahminn learned very quickly that Nero had loathed his parents from a young age, and from his descriptions of them, she did not begrudge him. 

Nero described his mother as never without a smoke in her mouth and F’lahminn at once silently questioned how there could possibly have been enough money for cigarettes when her son arrived at Magitek School half-starved and in need of nutritional supplements. 

Feeding Nero ought to have been the priority, and it clearly wasn’t.

His Mother too put pressure on Nero to succeed above that which Nero placed upon himself. She saw Nero as their ticket out of poverty, constantly urging him to “make friends with the Garlond boy.”

She valued not her sons gifted mind but his proximity to the son of a wealthy, prominent family.

By the time Nero had reached Gaius’ ascension to the Throne in the chronological list of Things That Had Gone Wrong Because Of Cid Nan Garlond the pie had cooled enough to be served, as had the bread.

F’lahminn making sure to keep her attention on Nero even as she began to serve dinner.

“….and!” Nero added, holding up one finger as they sat at the table, ready to partake of the repast. “Cid is directly responsible for the fact my nickname for entirely too many years was “the lapdog.” On account of jokingly giving Gaius a dog-whistle and suggesting that he use that to summon his Tribuni when Gaius lost is voice during a nasty cold and flu season.”

F’lahminn thought that one was, perhaps, a bit of a stretch, watching quietly as Nero helped himself to the game pie, cutting himself a heaping portion and instantly starting to eat without serving or waiting for her.

“I can see two noticeable themes from your account of your history with the other Engineer.” F’lahminn mused, carrying the bread and butter to the table before sitting herself.

“Let me guess, 1, that I’m a shitshow and 2, I should get over it?” Nero retorted instantly, an unimpressed expression on his face and parroting something Alisaie had once said.

“Well, no.” F’lahminn blinked serenely. “Firstly, by your telling of it Cid nan Garlond never did anything directly to harm you. He did not plot against you, like some mustache twirling villain from a pantomime. However, it is very clear that his existence did harm you….”

“Exactly!” Nero interrupted, slapping the table to emphasize his point. 

“….Secondly, unless there is more to the story, I must assume he was completely oblivious to this fact and you were entirely too prideful to bring it to his attention.”

It was easy to see why Nero would fixate on how things would have been different if Cid had simply not been there.

Or been a year behind him at Magitek School.

If Nero Scaeva had been the standard to which Cid Garlond was held, rather than the other way around.

Nero gave F’lahminn a long look at her assessment but could not argue with it. Not without lying through his teeth anyway. She looked up from where she was carefully cutting herself a bite of food and offered him a kind smile.

Nero wanted to quarrel with her, to raise the point that he and Cid had been friends once, toward the end of their time at the Academy and their collaborations and that which came from their then friendly rivalry were still considered the forefront of weapons technology in Garlemald.

After years of being held to Cid’s standard Nero’s inventions were finally beginning to be noticed in their own right. He was starting to be seen as capable of standing beside Cid nan Garlond as an equal, not an inferior.

And then Cid had walked away, burying his head in the sand and refusing the make more weapons. Thereby dooming anything Nero made from that point forward to be tainted with the dreaded “but.”

If something failed it was instantly assumed that it would not have done so if Cid had made it.

If something was a success it was instantly noted that that was not the way Cid would have done it.

Nero was held to a standard he could never match because it was an impossible one. 

No one could match a belief of what Cid nan Garlond might have done because it was an ever-moving goal post. Not matter what Nero did it was always assumed Cid would have done better. 

“I am curious, however, why join the XIVth, whose Legatus was so deeply enmeshed with the Garlond Family, when Cid has always been such a thorn in your side?” F’lahminn questioned, her voice slow and patient.

“A critical error on my part.” Nero owned. “I believed I could make Gaius’ see I am the Superior Engineer, and if I could win over Cid nan Garlond's most ardent supporter, I could convince anyone. By the time I realized no amount of skill could compete with Gaius’ unnatural bias toward Midas nan Garlond’s son, it was too late. I had been promoted several times over, I was in too deep to start over elsewhere.”

“Like a starving dog, given just enough to survive but never enough to gain the strength to run away. Gaius had you exactly where he wanted you.”

“…yes.”

F’lahminn rose, crossing around the table, ignoring that Nero flinched slightly to warp her arms around him in a warm embrace, his face pressed not unpleasantly into the soft swell of her breasts.

She understood now why Dainty had dropped a line about Cid being held to task for Gaius’ transgressions and why the Au Ra had been so violently concerned about that backlash as to not want Nero to have the promotion to the rank of Xe.

“F’lahminn… I do not require physical comfort.” Nero told her in cold tones.

“Well....You are getting it anyway.” The Miqo’te replied, refusing to release him. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was hoping to achieve, only that he had very much seemed like a man in need of a hug.

She reminded Nero very strongly of his favorite teacher from Magitek school.

A Thavnarian Hyur woman, she had been there only a year on a work exchange program yet, of everyone, it was she who had recognized some of the injustice that Nero was experiencing, and given him the words to explain his mounting resentments and hated of his supposed friend Cid nan Garlond.

Like F’lahminn that teacher had been so kind and gentle that one could never bear to be cross with her, nor quarrel with her. Her softness was its own kind of strength in a way, and no one had been better at coaxing the narcissistic, stubborn Nero into doing something that He. Did. Not. Want. To. Do than her.

Where others ordered and bullied and yelled she was calm and patient and ready to genuinely listen to the reasons why the young Nero was being so stubborn.

Where others wrote him off as a willful, scrappy child whose poor upbringing meant he didn’t know what was good for himself she treated him respectfully, as someone who had valid reasons for what he did, even if he was yet too young to fully explain them in terms an adult could relate too.

After a few moments F’lahminn released him from her embrace and, without much reaction, Nero began eating his dinner once more.

F’lahminn returned to her own meal, silence stretching awkwardly between them.

“It’s good.” Nero finally offered simply, making a gesture at the food as he reached for his beer as it finally occurred to him to thank her and compliment her for the meal.

“Thank you.” F’lahminn smiled, then smiled at him and thinking now would be an excellent time to move to their conversation to something much more light-hearted; “Would you like to hear about my encounter with the Principal of the Imperial Theater Company?”


	14. The One Thing They Agree On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They might not get along too well outside the bedroom but in it, neither Nero or F'lahminn have any complaints.

Nero was, if he was honest, more than a little less than sober.

The beer F’lahminn had procured for him had indeed been one that he quite liked and his discovery of the Ultima Weapon had been worth celebrating.

The heavy meal had also complimented nicely with the flavor of the beer leading him to drink more of it that he had originally intended.

F’lahminn, enjoying the same beer replenished her own, much smaller glass and tipped the last of the pitcher into Nero’s glass, leading him to grin at her.

“Are you tryin' to get me drunk and take advantage of me?”

“Oh!” F’lahminn drew her hands to her chest, as if mortally offended, and then gave him a saucy wink. “Yes.”

He gave a bark of laughter that drew a smile from F’lahminn. She did not hear him laugh often, and when he did it was the same as now. 

A short, sharp exhalation of air and only the slightest glint in his blue eyes.

Almost as if he were unfamiliar with the action and emotions that preceded it. Given that F’lahminn had seen him exchanging barbs and sass with Alisaie she knew that Nero smirked and jeered and taunted often enough but it seemed genuine smiles and laughter were not something Nero had had the pleasure of an excess of in his life.

Admittedly it had been only a week, but he seemed a very controlled, serious sort of man, as best F’lahminn could tell.

Nero’s eyes watched F’lahminn from the other end of the couch. 

They had fallen into a habit of retiring there after eating dinner to read for lack of other options. 

Sometimes Nero would listen to the State controlled radio station that gave updates about notable events and announcements occurring within the Empire.

A few times F’lahminn had gone to the office to continue converting it to a nursery. 

He still didn’t really want to be married, a low-grade anxiety of when it would all start to turn sour hovering in the back of his mind. However, if he had to endure the alteration to his life he had somewhat gotten lucky with a kind, gentle Miqo’te who could be a bit naughty sometimes and liked to be bitten.

He was not sure how to take her quiet acceptance of his grudge towards Cid nan Garlond, either.

By his best reckoning F’lahminn should have reacted as Alisaie had, telling him to get over it. It was not an unsound theory to think that someone so closely associated with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn would want to protect the beloved husband of one of their member.

F’lahminn wasn’t the first woman he had ever recounted The List too but she was the first to not be instantly dismissive of it by insinuating that he was not as smart as he thought he was, or else Garlond would not have always trumped him.

Nero knew damn well he was smarter than Cid but that had never been enough when his name was Scaeva, not Garlond.

The evening was warm, and Nero’s apartment, being cheaply made, suffered from a distinct lack of ventilation. Despite the fact that the few, small windows that it possessed had been opened F’lahminn was lounging around in a simple t-shirt and her underthings and Nero wore only his small clothes.

Had he been alone he would have been wandering around sky clad, as had often been his habit before acquiring a wife who he promised to treat with dignity. 

A wife who was looking awfully attractive in her bra, panties and t-shirt, one leg crossed delicately over the other and her eyes on her book. 

Nero was absolutely certain the lack of sobriety was causing the lack of inhibitions on his part, but he frankly didn’t care. She wanted to get pregnant, couldn’t do that without having sex and he was in a better mood than he had been in for a long, long time.

“Oh!” F’lahminn commented, slightly startled as the book was plucked out of her hands and discarded to the floor. She turned to look at Nero, only to find herself lifted and set straddling his hips as he stretched out on the couch, taking up the full length of it. “Do you want to have sex now?”

He nodded with a smirk and she grinned in reply, ears wiggling, just a little. “Alright.”

“Do you mind my doin’ that?” Nero slurred just a whisker, running his hands up her bare thighs to settle on her hips.

“Touch me? Most certainly not!” F’lahminn assured him, smoothing her hands over his bare chest a little, admiring the rigid planes of his muscles.

“No, pick you up like that. You’re so soft….”

Her fingertips as his mouth quickly hushed him, F’lahminn offering with a husky little giggle;

“I am also not a child who is liable to be frightened off by a little possessive play. Besides, I was raised a Seeker of the Sun.”

This peaked his interest, sitting up a little to run his hands over her backside until he encountered her tail and stroking a hand down its length to look at the white fur.

“Yet you appear to be a Keeper of the Moon.”

“You are familiar with the Miqo’te tribes?” F’lahminn blinked, having not expected that.

“Of course. The Frumentari did extensive research into the peoples of Eorzea to ascertain their weaknesses before Gaius van Baelsar’s failed invasion attempt. Myself included.” Nero reminded her with a dark grin.

That stilled her hands, and sent her a little rigid for a moment, a small little frown creasing her features and Nero gave an ugly snort of mocking laughter. “Ah, the pretty songbird has suddenly recalled what she has chained herself to.”

F’lahminn scowled, recalling very quickly the way Nero had commented “It’s a good thing the songbird is pretty, cos she ain’t smart.” about her to Alisaie. 

Even if his tone of voice had not clearly communicated he was being provocatively insulting his echoing of the phrase “pretty songbird” would have tipped her off to it.

“I am well aware what Gaius did and entirely aware your status as formerly one of his Tribuni. I am merely disappointed you chose to spoil the fun we were having.” F’lahminn scolded, attempting to rise but Nero retained his grip on her hips and tail. Her pink eyes moved to his hands, lips giving a little twist before she commented; “You know I cannot make you release me, so I am going to ask nicely and trust you meant all you said about a wife who is not forced. Let me go, Nero.”

She was instantly released, his hands retracting from her flesh obediently and she rose to her feet to look down at the blond man sprawled on the couch.

“Come back.” Nero ordered, gambling that he might have re-earned her good will by being trustworthy.

“No. You were unkind when you promised not to be.”

“I merely spoke the truth.”

“Then insulted me after. I’ve no objection to the truth. In following the orders of your Commander and Emperor, you sought to enslave my homeland. See? I am far from unaware or afraid of it. But comments implying my attractiveness compensates for a lack of intelligence are unnecessary. I take no pleasure in bickering for fun.”

“I knew you were too soft to be a soldier’s wife.” Nero grumbled as F’lahminn flounced out of the room. He did take pleasure in bickering for fun.

Nero hauled himself off the couch and followed her into the kitchen where she had started doing to dishes, leaning against the door frame and watching her for several long moments. 

Her tail swaying gently, long legs and trim figure displayed to their best advantage in the simple cotton shirt she wore over her small clothes. She really was very pretty, no wonder she had had them eating out of the palm of her hand once upon a time.

After a few moments Nero automatically picked up a dish towel and began to do the drying.

Despite being an avowed bachelor, he had never cared for the slovenliness of his fellows in the Army, preferring to keep everything neat, and in its place.

He had been cooking and cleaning up after himself perfectly for years and did not feel that the labor ought to be divided any less than 50/50. F’lahminn had cooked a pleasant meal for them, assisting with the cleaning was the least he could do.

They worked in silence until the sink was empty and the kitchen restored to its correct state before Nero asked;

“Can we go back the part of the evening where you were sitting on me?”

F’lahminn turned to look at Nero, her wet hands still in the sink and dripping having just handed him the last thing to be dried.

She did not like her chances of getting a genuine apology out of him and, as she had been doing so silently while she did the dishes, was debating if that was something she could live with. 

She did not want to set a precedent that he could insult her and not apologize for it, however she was sensitive that he likely had not been shown particularly good examples of how to behave… ever.

That list he recited earlier had given her an unexpectedly inciteful look into someone who was very guarded, and purposefully interacted only shallowly with the world around him.

F’lahminn got the impression Nero did not like being made to feel his emotions, neither good nor bad, keeping anything that might provoke a reaction from himself at arm’s length. It was a very sad way to live in F’lahminn’s opinion, but it was not her place to comment upon it.

Their interactions would remain little more than physical, shallow encounters, she had been reconciled to that the moment she decided a husband who cared more for his Career than her was not anathema to her. 

“Do you promise not to be unkind?” F’lahminn narrowed her eyes at him just a whisker.

“Yes.”

“Good. See that you mean it this time. I should hate to think the word of Nero xe Scaeva means nothing.”

Nero felt that rebuke, reminded once again firmly of his favorite teacher as a child. F’lahminn might not have been as quick witted as Alisaie, or staggeringly smart like himself but she clearly was not stupid.

She had managed to accurately assess that a prideful man such as himself would value his word very highly, after all.

F’lahminn shook her hands, drying them on the towel Nero held and then went and stood by the couch. She rather felt that having sex was a far better way to spend the evening than being pissy with each other, unspoken apology or not.

That was why she had cooked the expansive meal, after all.

Nero set aside the towel and followed her with a grin, realizing he was to sprawl out on the couch again so that she could sit on him, as requested.

“Ah! You can smile nicely.” F’lahminn observed, tossing her leg over his hips and sliding into place to straddle him, determined to shrug off the momentary unpleasantness and get back to the playful mood she had been in earlier. 

“Rarely.” Nero smirked, utterly ruining his nice smile, hands moving back to her bare thighs. Her panty covered core pressing nicely against his groin once more almost provoked another smile.

Almost. His hands traveled up her sides, slipping beneath the t-shirt she still wore to paint designs on her ribs and, when she leaned towards him encouragingly, stroked down her spine. “So why does a Seeker of the Sun raised miqo look like a Keeper of the Moon?”

“I actually have no idea.” F’lahminn admitted, returning her hands to his chest. “I assume my Mother got bored of waiting for the tribe nunh to desire her, had a spot of fun with a wandering Keeper male and 9 months later ta-dah! Growing up I always knew I was not the daughter of the F’Tribe nunh however when I got to an age to ask questions my mother and I moved to Ul’Dah. She married the son of a wealthy Weaver who claimed me as his own and that was the end of that.”

“Mmmm so you were raised with a mix of the male being allowed to have whatever female chose to join his tribe and hyuran monogamy?” Nero diagnosed, betraying just how familiar he was with the cultures of Eorzea and drawing look of surprise from F’lahminn.

“Just how much do you know about my homeland?”

“More than you’d think, and you didn’t answer my question.” Nero purred, tugging at her shirt to remove it. He was aware he was smart and had a memory that few could boast. 

It was one of the few things that Cid would quite happily concede that Nero bested him at. The blond Garlean man’s mind was like a reinforced steel trap, any onze of knowledge that went into it was retained and cataloged for future reference. 

Not unlike the books that lined his apartment.

F’lahminn obediently raised her arms so that he could slide the garment from her form, mussing her hair a little before nodded;

“Yes, that would be an accurate assessment of my upbringing. As I said, I am not put off by a little possessive play.”

“Izzat so?” Nero drawled and did not give her the chance to answer, large hands curling around her biceps and pulling her into a demanding kiss aggressively.

If he had been trying to scare her, or push her boundaries, he did a rather piss poor job of it as F’lahminn did little more than relax into his grip, accepting the kisses quite happily. She had just been debating the best way to transition from lazy touches to something more and he had solved that quandary for her admirably. 

His personality might leave a lot to be desired, but she could always count of his looks to provoke a spark of chemistry between them and was very well aware he likely felt the same about her.

F’lahminn could appreciate his muscular, yet lean frame. Honed from years of active military service and a spartan diet. 

She appreciated too his Warrior’s grace of movement as she was manipulated to lie beneath him on the couch, rather than straddling him as she had been. His obsessive tendency towards control extended beyond his own body to hers.

F’lahminn did not mind, when he positioned her it was always in a manner pleasurable to them both. She could accuse Nero of many things but selfishness in the bedroom was not one of them.

They had not engaged in oral play so far, always going straight for penetrative sex that could lead to pregnancy as she desired but as Nero began to kiss down her body F’lahminn decided this was absolutely not something she planned on complaining about.

If Nero was half as good with his mouth as he was with everything else she rather thought she might be in trouble.

“Wait, you don’t have a refractory period. Me first.” Nero corrected, abruptly, lips pressed against her thigh.

“Oh!” F’lahminn blinked several times, having been half lost in a lust haze by then. “Oh yes. Good idea.” 

She instantly moved to snuffle back around so that she was atop him once more.

Nero hadn’t expected that to work, if he was honest but he certainly wasn’t about to argue as she struggled to undress him with slightly alcohol clumsy fingers.

She settled into place quickly, reaching eagerly for his cock. Nero found himself somewhat intrigued by the look of absolute determination on F’lahminn’s face. It didn’t take her long to get him fully hard, caressing and stroking his shaft eagerly and flicking her tongue against the head teasingly several times.

Finally, after what Nero considered to be an unseemly length of “play” time, her mouth descended avidly.

It was then that Nero discovered that F’lahminn had absolutely no gag reflex what-so-ever.

His hands tangled in her hair, not forcefully but just startled by the sudden intense sensation as she swallowed his entire length and pleasure utterly flooded through him.

“Fucking …Hells…fuck….” He blurted out, nonsensical as F’lahminn slowly raised and lowered her mouth a couple times, her eyes watching as his squeezed tightly shut.

She bored down again, well aware she was very good at that. Spending a life-time singing and utilizing the muscles in her throat had left her with some rather prurient oral skills.

F’lhaminn hummed lowly around his dick, her entirely mouth and throat vibrating.

She was using per incredibly well trained and precise vocal control to pleasure him.

And it was working.

His back arched involuntarily, face contorted in what looked like a wince but was actually an expression of pure and utter bliss.

If he had been capable of rational thought at that moment, he might have kicked himself for waiting this long to have the highly trained singer take him in her mouth.

But the only thing running through Nero’s mind right at that moment was how goddamn good it felt and how embarrassingly quick he was going to lose it if she kept that up.

She lifted her head, replacing it with her hand a few moments, to breathe while pumping fluidly and swirling through the moisture left behind by her mouth and giving Nero a momentary respite.

But only momentarily before F’lahminn sucked his entire length into her mouth and throat once more, humming and giggling and the stimulation was entirely too much.

He fully twitched, requiring her to grab his hips or else be dislodged out of place by his hypnic spasm as he came, eyes scrunched closed and spine on fire with pleasure.

F’lahminn continued to lick Nero’s cock until he gave her shoulder an uncoordinated shove, the stimulation becoming too much, cock over sensitive in release.

She backed away instantly, sitting up to discreetly wipe her mouth with her discarded shirt and patiently waiting for Nero to come back down to earth.

F’lahminn scratched her nails up and down his legs a few times lightly, pleased with herself and wanting to maintain intimate contact. When he neither moved, nor protested, still basking in the glow F’lahminn stretched out on top of Nero, stacking her hands across his chest and resting her chin on them.

If he would not snuggle willingly she would take them where she could get them.

Nero peeked an annoyed blue eye open at the cheekily smiling, white haired Miqo’te sprawled on him bodily;

“Get off me.”

“Make me.”

Nero gave a bark of laughter at her wicked little smirk;

“If you insist.”

He moved to lock his arms around her, thinking to sit up, twist them around and flop back down again so that she was beneath him in one easy movement. 

F’lahminn had other ideas, seizing two handfuls of his hair and clinging to him like a limpet with a rather naughty little grin;

“You can try!”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Nero asked archly, but amused. 

The fact that she could possible think for even an ilm that she was any kind of a physical match wrestling him was utterly hilarious. His strength was so vastly superior to hers and although he had vowed to always be careful not to harm her unduly he had never made any promises not to haul her off him bodily.

He grabbed her by the hips, lifting her and accomplishing pulling his own hair via the death grip F’lahminn had taken on it. She might not be his physical match but she didn’t have to be, she knew how to play to what strengths she possessed.

The second Nero released her to attempt to pry her hands from his hair she flung herself against him again, laughing rather gleefully. 

Nero snorted, mostly amused by this and instantly set to work actually dislodging the woman who was equally as determined to remain precisely where she was, her mostly naked form pressed up against his totally nude one. 

She tickled him to make his limbs twitch when he got close to succeeding, and kissed him to distract him a couple times, nibbling on his bottom lip even as he tried to pull her away.

He couldn’t help but enjoy it, biting back actual laughter at her antics several times.

It would not do at all for her to know quite how deeply his ego was stroked by her efforts to stay physically close to him, and display her desire for him lest she use it against him in the future.

F’lahminn clawed his shoulders playfully in efforts to retain her grip and Nero responded by biting hers, earning him a soft little moan of pleasure and a squirm from her.

Whether she had intended it or not the game had swiftly turned into something much more akin to foreplay.

Her husky laughter and determined wiggles were entirely erotic, betraying that no matter how it had started she was doing it on purpose now, grinding her body against his.

She did not need to rub her thigh against his cock several times, stiffening it again lazily but did so all the same with a provocative little gasp of feigned surprise to find him so aroused.

As much as Nero was enjoying their tussle he did not lose with grace, or dignity and eventually resorted to forcing them both to their knees, pinning F’lahminn’s arms by her side and holding her tightly against him, her back to his front.

That way she could not get her arms free to continue her playful, sexual touches nor kiss him to distract him.

She could however, press her hips back so that her fluffy tail rubbed up against his dick in several pleasurable ways.

Nero hissed out a breath between his teeth, releasing her arms to find her breasts and pulling off her bra easily. 

His hands covered her heated flesh, feeling her pebbled nipples against his palm and flexing himself into her for the increased stimulation.

“If I didn’t know better I’d almost think soft, gentle F’lahminn wanted to be taken from behind like a whore.” Nero purred, drawing his lips up the back of her neck.

“Mmmm.” F’lahminn moaned softly, enjoying his hands on her body. She minded neither a little possessive play nor dirty talk whispered against her skin. “I thought you did not like to be categorically wrong.”

With a quick snap he pushed her forwards so that she landed on her hands and knees on the couch cushions.

F’lahminn flicked her tail out of the way, holding it with one hand so that could he take her from behind, feeling his cock slip between her folds and spear into her deeply.

“Twelve!” she gasped, it had been a while since she had been had quite like that.

“Are you alright?”

“Gods, yes! Keep going!”

The question as to her well-being was instant, as was her emphatic reply. She dropped to her forearms, tilting her hips back as his hands found her hips and starting to move within her.

Pleasure exploded out of her core, making her shake a little at the intensity of it. She didn’t even care they had collectively forgotten about “her turn” when it came to oral sex.

She had never met someone who managed to be both methodical, yet spontaneous and exciting. 

With his hands on her hips Nero pulled F'lahminn back towards toward him as he thrust forwards, slowly at first so that he could enjoy the show of watching his shaft disappearing into her tight, arched body.

In the small part of his mind that never switched off it occurred to Nero to be momentarily curious that all the races could safely mate with one another, at least whilst-ever the size difference would not injurious to one party or the other.

F'lahminn dropped a hand to where their bodies where joined and strummed her finger tips against the hard, aching bundle of nerves that was her clit. She was hungry for a release and had no desire for him to remove his hands from her hips.

His touches was entirely too precise, too perfect for that, hips circling over her round hips and using her to pull her onto his thick cock over and over.

Occasionally breaking rhythm to sweep across her lower back.

F'lahminn's last conscious thought before thinking became a distant second to feeling what that Nero had not been lying about having been with other miqo'te's in the past. 

His knowledge of exactly where to touch her to stimulate the nerve endings at the base of her tail and exactly how much pressure to use so as to just ever so slightly tickle made that patently obvious.

“Gods...that's exquisite..you're exquisite..” F'lahminn managed to moan, vaguely remembering that the man currently fucking her liked to the praised.

Faced away from his as she was, cheeked pressed against the fabric of the couch she utterly missed Nero's smug smile at her half nonsensical babbled praise.

Nero shifted his hips slightly with a grunt of pleasure of his own but kept thrusting. The edges of his peripheral vision were fading out, a deep non-painful ache in his groin altering him to the fact his own release was not far away.

He was unsurprised. Being flattered always did get to him and F'lahminn was so deliciously vocal in a way Garlean raised women, even of other races, tended not to be.

F'lahmin half singing “Oh, oh, oh!” the way she did and rocking her hips to match his rhythm was, as she had said, exquisite.

F'lahminn heard Nero groan but barely registered, body tensing and the nails of her free hand half clawed into the couch cushions.

Her ragged breathing was a siren song that she was close and, at the last moment Nero released her hips to grip her forearms, yanking her upright against him and changing the angle of his cock deep inside her.

A grand finale that F'lahminn appreciated if the way she gasped brokenly.

“Oh.... Twelve! Nero! Right there!” 

She could feel her toes curling.

He felt her body start to shake, holding her tightly as her body wrenched in his arms until she arched as orgasm flashed through her, eyes closed and mouth open in pleasure overload. 

Her reactions, both within and without was entirely too sweet for Nero, her cunt spasming around his length and edging him closer to cumming, as if he could fight it down, or wanted to.

F'lahminn still half quivering, felt him release inside her and gasped softly at the sensation in her over sensitive core. His climax was exactly as it had from the very right night. 

Quiet, and controlled to the absolute last.

The half formed though slipped away from F'lahminn in an instant, brain full of little more than white and pleasure and numb. Nero lost in much the same trance if the way he didn't instantly back away from her was any indication.

Limbs like jello whose pan and been violently shaken the pair more or less collapsed to the couch in delicious lethargy.

The heavy meal and the beer and the vigorous lovemaking and wrestling that preceded it had culminated in the dire need for a nap, at least for F'lahminn.

At that moment she frankly didn't care if Nero snuggled or not, or even got up and left her there asleep and naked on the damn sofa. 

She was taking a nap.   
It had ceased to be optional.

It took Nero several long moments to come back down to earth after that effort. Perhaps there was something to be said for F'lahminn's expansive meal after all, it was been a while since sex had scrambled his brain quite that intensely. 

Not that her rather gratifying oral efforts had been anything to dismiss out of turn. He was clearly going to have to request that particular pleasure more often if she was planning to be so generous with her skills.

However, he was torn. He did not snuggle but the couch was entirely too small for both of them to lay there without doing exactly that.

F’lahminn was clearly, genuinely, asleep, enjoying a nice alcohol and endorphin-soaked nap. Extricating his limbs from around her, which would no doubt wake her, would be unkind and he had diligently promised that he would not be unkind. 

But he would also quickly grow uncomfortable sprawled out the slightly-to-small sectional as they were.

Nero was entirely too tall for most couches.

He blamed the awful vanilla custard nutritional supplements he had been force fed in magitek school.

Stupid custard crap. I told them I’d been fed enough when I started getting growing pains but oh no, don’t listen to Nero. Aching shin bones is perfectly normal! – Nero grumbled to himself, glancing down at the sleeping Miqo’te in his arms. – I wonder if she knows how to make proper vanilla custard.

The thoughts of his school days were making him crave the actual good, baked custard they used to serve with lunch a couple times a month. They always dusted the top with sugar before it went into the oven, giving it a nice crack when you sank your spoon into it.

Nero decided he was willing to be slept on if it meant he got good baked vanilla custard, and a back rub since some body part was absolutely going to go numb in his current position. It was just a question of if it would be a hip, a leg or a shoulder.

F’lahminn did look awful cute, though. Using his arm as a pillow, one hand curled against his chest and her sex messy hair cascading around her pointed face.

He could feel tiny tell-tale vibrations where her body was pressed up against his and realized she was silently purring in her sleep. Nero instantly hated that that provoked a sense of contentment in him.

No. Cease and desist at once. I do not have feelings. I most certainly do not have warm feelings for F'lahminn. – Nero insisted to himself. - F'lahminn... why must Eorzeans insist on giving their children such Godsawful names? This will not do. Lahminn? No, thats what her dead daughter called her. Minn...AhMinn... Minn-a... hmm Minn-a. That sounds almost Garlean... 

Nero felt himself sort of drift into a light doze, even if he was too uncomfortable to sleep as she was and did not fight it.

Having spent so many years in the Imperial Army he could doze just about anywhere, including standing up in full armor.

He wasn’t sure how long they had lay there, likely only 15 or 20 minutes has his hip was only just beginning to protest when his movements to relieve the pressure roused F’lahminn with a soft little noise of wakefulness.

“I want vanilla custard.”

F’lahminn blinked.

That wasn’t generally what she was used to hearing when she woke up from a post coital nap but considering she tended to voluntarily feed Nero after sex, it didn’t necessarily surprise her.

“Right now? I’m not sure I have the correct ingredients, but I could try.”

“No, tomorrow. After dinner. And a back rub.”

She snorted with laughter, having deduced enough about Nero’s personality to recognize that this was his “price” for letting her sleep in his arms. It had occurred to her that it was somewhat out of character for him to do so as she drifted off.

“Alright but we’re snuggling for at least 10 more minutes.” F’lahminn squirmed in a little tighter and sighed contentedly.

She heard him grumble to himself before muttering:

“Fiiiiine.”

F’lahminn lingered in Nero’s slightly unwilling embrace for precisely 10 minutes before she gently extricated herself as promised. The blond man seemed to be sleeping or was perhaps merely feigning again. 

She did not know him well enough to stay for sure, but his eyes remained closed and his breathing steady as went in search of her discarded clothing and covered his nude body with a blanket.

Nero paused, listening to the ever so faint nose of F’lahminn padding softly around his apartment and, now that he knew to listen for it, the almost silent, telltale sound of two plates being set on a counter and the ice box opening.

He fully smiled, stomach giving a little murmur but he remained where he was, stretched out on the couch feigning sleep until F’lahminn returned.

“Nero?” she called softly.

“Mmm?” 

“Do you want some leftovers?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, my hands slipped and I wrote more smut ;)


	15. Ala Mhigo - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dainty and Livia girl talk and Alphinaud meets an old friend, who knows a good deal more about Ala Mhigo than he does.

Alphinaud iyi Leveilluer was not present to witness the arrival of Grand Minister Cid nan Garlond and Lady Aurora cen Garlond in Ala Mhigo.

If he had been he would have had a hard time covering his laughter at the perpetually bemused expression Dainty tended to wear when acting a role.

As “Aurora” her physicality in every way displayed her a naive, slightly dimwitted but impossibly sweet teenager who utterly adored her handsome Garlean husband.

Those in the Resistance that kept note of the movements of the Imperials at the Ala Mhigan Royal Palace noted only that this was likely nothing more than a social visit.

Alphinaud, however, had declined to attend the pomp and circumstance of the “arrival” and the breakfast with the Viceroy, Livia van Junius, that was scheduled to follow. 

Having it appear that it was Livia alone who ordered the supplies that were to be dispensed would be helpful in their goal of having Ala Mhigans trust her enough to enact their plans of returning Ala Mhigo to its people.

Just as soon as they figured out what those plans were, in detail.

There was still no clear strategy in place for a myriad of reasons.

One of which Alphinaud had gone hunting for in the very lowest depths of the Palace.

Below the tile and marble hallways and staterooms. Below the lavishly equipped bedrooms, now riddled with magitek conveniences. Below even staff quarters, and kitchens. 

Down Alphinaud went, descending whenever he found a set of stairs or chamber that allowed himself to do so until he found the Mad Kings’ personal prison cells. An oblique comment made by one of the Preafectus Castoreum yesterday had tipped Alphinaud off to its existence.

The man had, somewhat resentfully, referred to the Empire feeding prisoners better than it did its own soldiers. Livia’s poor attitude had quickly changed the mans’ mind about making further complaints when he had been summoned only to give a factual report but it had set Alphinaud to thinking.

As far as anyone knew the Empire had no prisoners in Ala Mhigo.

Not anymore after those that had been kidnapped and experimented upon for Zenos and Varis’ efforts to duplicate the Echo. They were all long dead, drained of their Aether in order to create a Resonant.

So who, Alphinaud had questioned, had the man been referring to?

Livia neither knew, nor particularly cared but had tipped Alphinaud off as to a previous order given by Gaius, when he yet ruled Ala Mhigo, that certain key figures of the Resistance be taken alive when able.

Livia did not know what purpose Gaius had had in mind for these men and woman but she doubted Zenos ever remembered they were there.

Where-ever they had been imprisoned they likely still were and Alphinaud was of the mind to find them.

It had not taken a particularly difficult leap in logic to realize the Mad King of Ala Mhigo would have perversely enjoyed imprisoning those that fell victim to his rages in the palace, where he could taunt them and take pleasure in their degradation before he finally had them put to the blade.

A secret jail surely existed and it having been constructed below the palace, in the hard Ala Mhigan clay earth was the obvious answer.

The Mad King had been a vicious tyrant but he had also been predictable.

It was not long before the smooth stone steps Alphinaud traversed gave way to cold iron, and the light ceased being that which came from sunshine. Large, open corridors quickly turned into cramped, narrow passageways, hastily carved from unforgiving earth.

A set of 6 jail cells greeted Alphinaud’s lantern as he finally broached the heavy iron door. 

5 of the cells were empty, although 2 of these suggested they had been occupied within the past year or so. The final contained a woman of indeterminate age with dirty blonde hair and almost entirely impassive blue eyes as she looked at from the dirt wall she had been staring at.

The eyes looked him up and down, taking in the Garlean emblem on the clothing he wore, a sneer crossing her mouth.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Alphinaud Leveilluer. I am here to release you.”

“Leveilluer?!” The woman shot to her feet, storming at once to the bars of her cell and attempting to grip Alphinaud by the collar although he stepped back at her sudden ire. “Are you lying to me!? You had better not be lying to me!”

“No, ma’am! I assure you. My name is truly Alphinaud Leveilluer, I am here under direct orders of the Emperor Gaius zos Baelsar via Livia van Junius to restore Ala Mhigo to her peoples and, more tangibly, I am here to release you from your unwarranted detainment. Immediately.” 

There was a long, desperate pause as the woman looked at him, her blue eyes burning with something Alphinaud rather suspected was hatred.

“By the Grace of All that is Good, what the Seven Hells is the progeny of Archon Louisoiux Leveilluer doing allying himself with the filth of Garlemald?” 

“You knew Grandfather?!” Alphinaud fully gasped, struggling to explain who this woman was. 

“Of course I bloody did.” The woman snapped, lifting her hair away from her neck to reveal the tell-tale purple marking of a Sharlayan Archon’s tattoo on her neck. “And I know he ain’t bloody proud of whatever you’ve involved yourself in, boy! No matter yer intentions! Gaius van Baelsar is scum. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“How long have you been down here?!” Alphinaud gaped at her.

It was her use of present tense in regard to his long deceased Grand Father and Gaius’s past title that made him react so viscerally.

“Who knows anymore…. Years? Decades? I haven’t had much to judge by.” She gave an ugly laugh at the look on Alphinaud’s face. “The Imperials what hauled me down here forgot me just as quick. Are you going to release me or not?”

“Of course, Miss …..?”

“Yda. Yda Hext.”

“But…. that’s impossible!” Alphinaud fumbled the keys in his pocket at this information. One of the things Livia had been giving as Viceroy was a skeleton key that supposedly opened any lock in the palace.

He hoped it was true.

“Clearly it ain’t.” Yda gave an angry gesture to herself.

“You don’t understand. I knew Yda Hext! I was with her the day she died, in Ul’Dah! Betrayed by the Monetarists and my own Crystal Braves.” Alphinaud cried anxiously. “She was a dedicated and beloved member of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, I have mourned her loss, hers and all the Scions! Every single day!”

He managed to shove the key into the lock, despite the fact his hands had started shaking, grateful that it turned promptly to free the woman as he had promised.

"Who the Seven Hells are _the Scions_ and why is one of them impersonating me?" The blonde woman demanded crossly, hands shoved on hips and clearly finding it difficult to both trust or follow Alphinaud's words.

"Forgive me, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were the Circle of Knowing before the death of my Grandfather, Archon Loiusoiux." Alphinaud explained and Yda visibly flinched. 

All these years locked in the darkness and when all else failed to rouse her from falling into utter despair it was the belief of being reunited with her partner in the Circle of Knowing that kept her going.

“Papalymo… he is..." Her voice almost cracked but she did not cry. Not anymore. Vulnerability transforming her features from the suspicious glare. "He is..... dead then too?” 

“Yes. I am very, very sorry to tell you so.” Alphinaud confirmed, throwing wide the door. “Y’Shtola too, along with Minfilia, Thancred, and the woman I knew as Yda.”

“I had a younger sister. Gods I barely remember....” Yda admitted, “Lyse was her name. She must have assumed my identity when I went missing.”

“That seems a highly probably conclusion. What year was it when you were incarcerated here?”

Yda named a date almost 7 years in the past and Alphinaud gaped at her, undignified, for several long moments before he finally muttered;

“Oh…Oh Gods… you don’t … you don’t even know about the Calamity… I have much to tell you.”

 

* * * *

 

“This was all a bit unnecessary, Liv.” Cid nan Garlond observed and was promptly kicked under the table by Dainty, quickly correcting himself to “sorry… Livia.”

Livia, who loathed being addressed as “Liv” by anyone other than Gaius gave Dainty was passed as a grateful smile but mainly just made the woman look smug. It was no doubt Dainty who had brought this fact to the otherwise oblivious Cid’s attention.

“Gaius says I must work on my nasty pride, which I assume means learning to tolerate you more readily when I am his wife.” She informed the white-haired man, narrowing her violet blue eyes at him momentarily before reaching for a silver serving bowl of fat, sweet imported strawberries.

Gaius might tolerate her dislike of his Favorite, Cid nan Garlond, when she was just one of his Tribuni but he would absolutely not tolerate it from his wife. Livia knew that absolutely.

She knew how Gaius’ mind worked better than anyone else. Even Gaius sometimes.

Cid gave a groan and put his face in one hand.

“This is going to end so poorly.”

“Tis just breakfast. Relax.” Livia retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Not that. Hells, Liv..ia… can’t you see how terrible an idea it is to nominate yourself Gaius’ wife?” Cid implored. “I know you’ve never cared for my opinion, but I would not see you treated the way Gaius treats those he resents.”

“I should have known you, of all people, would react with jealousy.” Livia van Junius snorted, licking her lips. 

“That is not what…”

“What is the matter, Cid? Scared I will usurp your throne as Gaius favorite?” the blonde woman taunted.

“Not for an instant.” Cid replied, his words unintentionally deeply insulting Livia with his transparent belief that she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. “I’m just trying to make you see that binding yourself to a man who will use you as his punching bag, in more ways than just emotionally, because he loathes having had to marry you is not going to make you happy.”

“Do not speak of our Emperor so in my presence!”

“I’m not speaking of the Emperor but the man beneath the crown. As Ruler I have no doubt Gaius will continue to be as effective and, dare I say it, fair as he has been so far. As your husband, Livia, he will be an utter tyrant. You know his puppet master antics. You know his taste for the violent. He respects you as a Soldier too much to run you through the wringer now but the moment you’re just a wife, all that respect will be forgotten in favor of taking out his foul moods on you and your person and dammit, Liv, you don’t deserve that!”

“Er, dearest?” Dainty asked in a soft little voice, mindful that the servants and those tending to them believed her a teenager. They might not be able to overhear the conversation at the table, the were positioned too far away along the ornate walls of the large dining room but they were still within visual distance so that they could be summoned with merely a gesture if those at the table needed anything.

Livia glared daggers at Cid, looking fit to explode with rage herself.

“Yes, Dainty?”

“I am curious, since you are well aware that Livia knows Gaius very, very well…” a prettily affected little frown creased her brow “..what makes you think she is not already entirely aware of all that you have said?”

“HA!” Livia snorted with delight, seeing that, as usual, Dainty was on her side. There was a reason Livia liked Dainty when normally anyone born of Aan repulsed the blonde Legatus.

“Yeah Cid, do you think me stupid? Or are you just so arrogant as to believe you’re the only person in the room with a brain?”

“That is not…” Cid tried to protest but was swiftly cut off by Livia goading and snapping her fingers at him;

“Quick, quick! Pick one, am I stupid or are you arrogant… ouch!”

“Oh, pardon me Lady Junius, my foot slipped. What was that you said earlier about learning to tolerate Gaius’ favorite?” Dainty asked innocently, proving she was not above kicking Livia under the table as equally as she did Cid. “And would you please pass the cream?”

Livia glowered at Dainty but handed the pot across, reminded of her “nasty pride” and that Dainty was an Eikon slayer despite the vacant little smile that the curly haired Au Ra was rewarded Livia with.

Technically Livia was not entitled to be addressed as “Lady” but one of Dainty’s many affectations as “Aurora” was to be overly respectful to those around her, particularly those in Gaius’ Court.

It tended to put people at ease around her and feed into the fact that people instantly assumed her to be young and cloud-headed upon first meeting her.

“I deserved that. I suppose. Barely.” Livia muttered, shooting a withering glare at Cid, mostly blaming him for provoking her. Everyone knew she would not suffer slights against Gaius quietly.

“It is unfortunate to have been placed in such a position as you have, Lady Junius. You bare the frightful choice of; your misery at watching your love slowly growing to resent you, or your misery at watching your love marry another, touch another, give another his children.”

“Yes.” Livia agreed, setting down her cup sharply and leaning in, blue eyes ablaze. “But you see, there is no choice. I could never watch Gaius with another. Never! Not whilst ever the is the chance I can make him not resent me.”

“Good luck.” Cid muttered provokingly into his coffee, then moved his legs so that Dainty couldn’t kick him, but the Au Ra didn’t try.

A muffin bounced off his forehead, earning Dainty a singularly unimpressed look as Cid set his coffee down sharply to glare at her.

She smiled angelically in reply.

“Gaius will insist on a long engagement. I know he will attempt to delay the inevitable as long as possible. I have that time, at least, to make Gaius listen to me. To make him understand! He thinks he raised me in his image, he tried! Yet it did not work because I was too busy raising myself to be his perfect foil! Gaius derives sexual pleasure from performing acts of violence, I have cultured myself to gain sexual pleasure from having acts of violence performed upon me!”

“I’ll just go and see what Alphinaud is up to, shall I?” Cid stood promptly, grabbing his plate and deciding he wanted absolutely no part of this conversation any longer. 

“Yes, go and tell the servants to bring more sweet breads on your way out.” Livia ordered.

“And wine.” Dainty requested with a little giggle; “Girl talk requires wine.”

 

* * * *

 

“I cannot believe it.” Yda observed softly, sitting on the steps to the Ala Mhigan Royal Palace and looking at the sky for the first time in more years than she cared to ponder.

She knew a long time had passed but everything that occurred in that time frame was over whelming and she had been witness to none of it. 

Still, she knew Urianger would not lie to her.

The last surviving member of the Circle of Knowing other than herself would not lie to her.

The moment she heard his voice come through Alphinaud’s linkshell, confirming all that the boy had told her as the truth she had known in her heart of hearts that it was simply too fantastical to be a lie.

Dalamud torn from the heavens, an Elder primal unleashed from within. A rogue legion of the Imperial Army led by the very man who enslaved her homeland and ordered her imprisoned attempted to avert that Calamity but it was the sacrifice of Archon Louisoix that actually saved their Star.

Gaius zos Baelsar now sat on the Empire’s Throne, sanctioned by not only Garlemalds population but the remnants of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, who were in turn the remnants of the Circle of Knowing.

Urianger was also able to confirm what Yda had suspected.

It was her sister Lyse beneath the mask. And Lyse who perished during the Ul’Dah Uprising. The Scions had known but, out of respect for Papalymo, had always held their tongue, unaware that Yda was imprisoned beneath the Palace. 

“If you should like to know more about the events leading to Gaius van Baelsar’s transition to Gaius zos Baelsar I should be glad to introduce you to Cid nan Garlond. He was there to witness it personally. He can answer your questions more readily than I.” Alphinaud offered, seeing the tall, white haired man approach from within the palace but holding up a hand to caution Cid to stay back a ways.

Alphinaud was not sure how Yda would react to seeing an actual pure blooded Garlean right now.

“No.” Yda shook her head firmly. “I’ve heard enough for now. Your words regarding Doma, and Ishgard were enough to convince me that dwelling on the past will serve me naught for now. I will do all I can to aid my homeland, and then take my rightful place among the Circle at Vesper Bay.”

“Urianger will be glad for your strength, I have no doubt.” Alphinaud promised, shooting Cid an apologetic smile and shooing him away. 

Alphinaud was grateful for Cid’s good nature, the man merely giving a nod and moving off in a different direction without question or offense.

“What little of it remains to me after all those years incarcerated.” Yda gave a ghost of a laugh.

“We will aid you any way we can.”

"And I you. Been doin' an awful lot of thinkin' about my homeland while down there in the dark."


	16. Ala Mhigo - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As predicted, Dainty gets to murder a Primal.

A parasol kept the worst of the hot, bright Ala Mhigan sunshine off Dainty's mint green coloured curls as she investigated the half-ruined quarry.

Once a thriving industry town Ala Gannha had been reduced to famine and poverty by Garlean occupation. A theme repeated over and over the length of Gyr Abania.

Cid had forgone his usual tunic in favor of a simple white t-shirt and was languishing in the shade, watching Dainty poke, and prod.

"If the marble I want came from this quarry there doesn't appear to be anything left of it." Dainty observed, disappointed.

She had found that several of the rooms of the Ala Mhigan palace were outfit in the same lavender and brown granite tile that she wanted for the Garlond Estates.

This highly suggested that Tartaru had been correct, the granite had originally come from the occupied territory, likely imported when the quarries were open and at their height of production.

"I wonder if we might ask the locals." Dainty mused, picking up the hem of her long, lightweight cotton dress and moving back toward Cid.

"I don't think they are too likely to be forth coming." Cid observed, side eyeing the manner in which some of the town’s population was watching them wearily.

He did not blame the Ala Mhigan people for their suspicions, even if he had no true fear of violence.

Not with Dainty there and multiple compact weapons hidden on her person.

Still, the fact that the Resistance had managed to ambush the well-guarded Viceroy lingered in Cid's mind, especially as they were there with no escort save Livia's White Devil.

She had been displeased to let them borrow it, only coaxed to do so when Cid had promised to give the Reaper a couple upgrades that Nero's Red Baron did not possess, once again making Livia's the superior mount after Nero had managed to duplicate flight capabilities into the Red Baron independent of Cid.

"Perhaps." Dainty smiled her eyes similarly straying to the small town and the mixture of hostile and curious expressions they were receiving.

She did have a knack for being able to get people to talk to her. Her Echo allowed her to know just the right questions to ask and her tendency to remain silent and let people babble nervously to fill up the silence often got people to say more than they meant to reveal.

She closed her parasol as she joined Cid in the shade, tucking her hand into his before the faintest whisper of something tickled at the back of her senses.

"That's odd." Cid frowned, noting that all the villagers, who had been previously been loitering at the edge of their town, watching them closely, had vanished.

"I'm sensing something hostile. I rather think we're about to be ambushed." Dainty replied, her tone light, as if discussing nothing more sinister than the midday sunshine but she gripped her parasol tighter.

Although it looked like a simple bit of frippery it actually concealed an energy weapon of no small amount of power.

Even as her hand closed around the handle sinuous shadows of armed, creeping figures started to show on the cliff walls that made up the entrance to the quarry.

Dainty moved forwards easily, positioning herself between Cid and whatever was coming. The shape of the shadows caught her attention, reminding her sharply of Alphinaud's warning about the areas Beast Tribe.

"What do you want me to do, Dainty?" Cid asked softly, noting as she had the sound of the snake peoples scales against the dirt.

“Take the White Devil and return to the palace. If there is a Primal summoning on the horizon I want you on the other side of the damn country." Dainty replied swiftly, activating a tracking beacon in her parasol. “Linger there an hour complete to see where they take me, then come with the cavalry. And tell Livia to remember; flash and noise not lethal force, Gaius' orders.” 

Being flight capable the Reaper could bare them both out of quarry to safety, but Dainty wanted to be found by the Ananta.

There was a reason she and Cid had had no guard, hoping to bait one or other of the desperate tribes into approaching her, or kidnapping her so that she could observe the goings on from within.

Cid had been unhappy about that plan, but he knew he was married to the Warrior of Light, and had long since learned not to argue. He gave her a quick kiss before jogging quickly to the Reaper and departing as she had requested.

From the skies Cid could see a coterie of 12 blue cloth and crystal covered Ananta converging on Dainty, and the Au Ra offering them no resistance, allowing them to surround her. 

She could have retrieved one of her weapons and slaughtered the Ananta. Even outnumbered 12 to 1 these skirmishers with their curved blades were nothing to a Warrior who could stare down Primals.

Once upon a time, she probably would have without question. 

But marriage to Cid had mellowed Dainty to a large degree.

The jokes that were made about his having “softened” her were accurate in more ways than just the fact she was willing to give and receive platonic physical affection now whereas before she had kept everyone at arm’s length physically and emotionally.

His views about violence had rubbed off on her, leaving her only likely to reach for her axe if it were truly, absolutely, necessary rather than that being her go to solution for most problems.

Cid was safe, and killing the Ananta would solve nothing, Dainty knew as she walked calmly, encircled on all sides by their scaled bodies.

"Where am I being taken?" Dainty asked as they walked.

"All mussst give tribute to the Lady of Bliss."

That arched Dainty's brows sharply.

"Who is the Lady of Bliss.?" Dainty questioned, looking closer at the Ananta's eyes, trying to discern if they had already been tempered.

Was Alphinaud wrong in regards to his belief that a summoning was looming because a summoning had already occurred?

"Sri Lakshmi dwellssss within Djanan Qhat and the Broodmother hasss declared that all must give tribute to the Goddesssss."

No wonder the villagers had fled at the first sign of the Ananta - Dainty realized.

"How many have already been taken to give Tribute?"

"No more than Sri Lakshmi desssservesss."

The answer came swiftly, suggesting that her Ananta escorts had not yet been tempered, which was comforting in a way. The Primal would have no need to temper those who already worshiped her.

Only those brought in as Tribute.

"Then let us not keep Sri Lakshmi waiting." Dainty murmured, hands tightening around the handle of her parasol, activating a hidden switch.

It gave a small hiss, and a pulse of power, transforming in a second into a weapon in her hands.

She took the foremost two Qaylana by surprise, strafing forwards, her Aether whirling around her and dealing two massive blows that sent them sprawling, unconscious, into the dirt.

Three and four fell equally as quick. One to a kick that fully stunned her, the other to one of Dainty's rather savage uppercuts.

Dust started to kick up around them as Dainty moved effortlessly, blocking and twisting her body to avoid each blow and, one by one, picking off the much less skilled fighters until they lay in the dirt in a starburst pattern around her.

Reassured that they would not be tempered by their false God Dainty closed her eyes a moment, breathing deeply and letting her Echo guide her to Djanan Ghat.

She was about halfway there when a large, blonde haired man of Ala Mhigan decent, clad in silver armor and warpaint appeared from behind a rock, giving her a panicked wave and yelling:

“Miss! Miss! Avert your course, the lands ahead are the territoooor…. Oh! Dainty!”

“Hi, Arenvald.” Dainty smiled in welcome, giving her axe a little shake so that it restored itself to its parasol form and lifting it over her head to shield her skin from the burning sunshine.

“By the Twelve am I glad to see you!” the large youth, only 19 years of age had been well acquainted with the fact that Dainty still lived but had not put eyes on her in nearly 2 full years. 

She no longer wore her Linkshell.

That form of communication was too easily hacked, or eavesdropped upon to risk her distinctive voice, or even reference to her being made via that method.

People knew Alphinaud and Alisaie yet lived, although they were assumed to be in their homeland, Sharlayan. Similarly, the leaders of the City States knew the Scions of the Seventh Dawn still functioned in some capacity, although where their headquarters now resided was unknown.

The Scions kept it that way for good reason, fearing that their limited numbers might be reduced further still by those desperate for information on whether the Warrior of Light still lived.

They all remembered what had been done to Alisaie by supposed Allies.

“And I you! I’m off to punch a Primal and need someone to take the credit for it.” Dainty informed him cheerfully, giving a gesture towards the Qalyana controlled area where their tribal dwellings and the catacombs below formed Djanan Ghat.

“Me?!” Arenvald gaped at her as she continued rather jauntily along the path. One hand on her parasol, the other holding up the hem of her skirt.

“Well, obviously the teenaged bride of a Garlean Noble certainly can’t. Besides, you were so gallant as to just rescue me from the Qalyana that kidnapped me. There were 12 of them, remember that detail.”

“Er…. yes Dainty.” Arenvald agreed, glancing backwards in the direction she had walked from before jogging to catch up with her.

He did not like the idea of being lauded for something he had not done yet could not argue with her words. Alphinaud had asked him to keep an eye on the Qalyana and alert them the moment the Primal was summoned although Dainty’s words now implied that the summoning had already occurred.

It was times like this that Arenvald missed the Archons the most.

Any one of them would likely have been able to tell instantly that the Primal had already been summoned by the way aether was being drawn to and bled from the area around Djanan Ghat. While Arenvald could do little more than observe from a safe distance away, hidden in the many rock formations that dotted the Ala Mhigan countryside.

“Also I absolutely insisted on going to Djanan Ghat and not back to the Palace because I feared my husband had also been taken and demanded that you rescue him too.” Dainty added, realizing they would need a cover story as to why Arenvald had supposedly brought her there rather than restoring her to the Garleans once he had supposedly rescued her.

“…wouldn’t you have seen him escaping when the Qaylana snatched you?” Arenvald questioned, feeling eyes upon him as they began to approach Djanan Ghat.

“Aurora isn’t known to be particularly bright.” Dainty giggled in a cute little manner that made Arenvald blink several times.

“Oh, I see.”

He had always known Dainty to be stern, cold and stubborn. He had witnessed time and time again the way people misjudged her based solely on the delicate way she looked and how vociferously she had fought to make them see her and respect her as a Warrior.

Watching her bat her lashes, clad in a sundress and carrying a parasol instead of an axe, her hair prettily styled and woven with ribbons was jarring for the young man.

Arenvald had always imagined that when he saw Dainty again, given that she now resided in Garlemald and had a Garlean husband, that she would be attired as a soldier. Likely in armor as Nero had been, when that Tribunus, Arenvald and Alisaie had ventured into the second Binding Coils of Bahamut.

He was familiar with the deception being played by the Scions, Dainty and Garlemald but somehow it had never seemed real when he was so far removed from it.

Watching Dainty now behave as the youthful ditz people seemed to always believe she was made it very real to Arenvald. He thought she must love her husband very much to be willing to set aside all that she had struggled for so that she could remain at his side without suspicion being cast upon him in any way.

That was a pleasant thought that made Arenvald smile unexpectedly.

It was nice to think that cold, standoffish Dainty had found genuine, deep love even in the horrific aftermath of the Ul'dah Uprising and her fleeing Eorzea.

“Let us plan.” Dainty ordered, drawing Arenvald behind a rock momentarily before they drew too much closer to the dwellings of the Qaylana. She closed her parasol, placing it on her back as if it were one of her war axes and, to Arenvald’s surprise, reached beneath her dress and removed the two daggers hilts she had tucked in leather garter hilts on her thighs.

Activating the energy weapons with a soft hiss revealed them to be ninjetti weaponry. “You go on ahead, insist you are there to give tribute to Sri Lashmi. I will follow behind, hidden. Once we get close its your job to take out any of Sri Lakshmi’s worshipers. Get in their face, be loud. Make sure the only thing they see is you. Got it?”

When Arenvald didn’t answer Dainty looked up, and saw him looking at her weapons in confusion and gave a huff of annoyance that she had to waste time explaining;

“What? I spent some time in Doma. Of course, I picked up the Ninja discipline, its me! Besides, everyone knows Thancred and Jacke tried to teach me to be a Rogue when I was a green girl.”

“Ah, there you are, Dainty.” Arenvald grinned. 

There was the Warrior of Light he knew and admired so well. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Dainty made a gesture, obscuring herself with smoke and a little field magic. Arenvald, able to still see her thanks to his own Echo gave a nod before stepping out and continuing determinedly towards Djanan Ghat.

* * * 

 

“Hurk!” Arenvald threw himself left, hitting the ground hard and rolling several times to dodge massive right-handed swipe Sri Lakshmi had taken at him.

Her voice, soft and sweet and pervasive, sung in his mind and he dove for a bubble of vril, strange field magic that momentarily blocked out the sound and prevented him from being seduced by the Primal.

The effects of being enamored of her were entirely temporary, unlike tempering, but Arenvald still wasn’t keen too experience it twice.

He wasn’t sure where Dainty was, he had lost her somewhere in the melee fighting with the Qaylana and the resulting confusion. He could only assume she was trying to set herself up for a kill shot on the Primal, being unwilling to risk fighting it was a Warrior.

There were too many witnesses. 

Those that the Qaylana had kidnapped from the surrounding lands, and even a few Garleans mixed in, proving that the nagas had been indiscriminate when snatching people to give tribute to Sri Lakshmi. 

They were kept in earthen cells lining the walls of the cavern in which Sri Lakshmi dwelled, there had been no time to check if they had been tempered yet, Qaylana guards and worshipers moving to intercept Arenvald the moment he had broached the chamber with Dainty silently trailing behind him.

As a Gladiator trained and possessed of the Echo Arevnald had quickly realized his best bet was to keep Sri Lakshmi’s attention focused on him, not the captives and give Dainty time to do what Dainty did best.

Even if she was forced to do it as a Ninja at this particular moment.

If word leaked that a Raen Au Ra Warrior slew a primal beneath Ala Mhigo shortly after Lady Aurora Garlond arrived in the country the rumors that Dainty and Cid had taken such pains to quell in Ishgard would begin again with utter abandon.

There would likely be no silencing them a second time.

Sri Lakshmi drew back again, on the left this time, leading Arenvald to have to sprint across the chamber to avoid being slapped against the walls like one might flatten an annoying bug.

He made it just in time, and with a desperate leap, grumbling “buggerit…” between clenched teeth as he scrambled to his feet.

A thick sounding explosion sounded from somewhere above them.

“The Hells was that?!” Arenvald barked in surprise, adjusting his grip on his weapon and slashing skillfully at Sri Lakshmi, seeing an open. 

He wasn’t actually expecting an answer but one of the Garlean captives called out:

“Mortars!” there was another explosion, much closer this time that rained dirt down on the speaker and those near him. “By the sound of it the whole damn XIVth has arrived!”

That drew a cheer from most of the prisoners. At this point they didn’t even care who their saviors were, so long as they didn’t get tempered.

“Our poor sssisssters.” A Vira captive murmured, clutching her hands to her chest. Despite hailing from a tribe considered subservient to the Qaylana and the situation she had no love of seeing her fellow Naga massacred by Garleans.

Arenvald took a blow, successfully bringing his shield around in time to block in, pushing him backwards with enough force that his booted feet started to dig into the earth and leave trenches.

The doors to the room where blown open by magitek fire, giving Arenvald the break he need to feign left but strafe right to avoid Sri Lakshmi’s next attack.

Astride an almost blinding white Reaper the armored Livia van Junius charged into the room, gleefully howling;

“Clear the cages! Release the captives! Come, Eikon! Let us dance!”

She exited the Reaper in a leap, somersaulting gracefully, body arcing through the air to avoid the swiping blow Sri Lakshmi took at her.

Her Reaper, moving independently of its rider, flattened itself low to the ground to dodge the blow and then answered with a large column of blue ceruleum flame that successfully set the Primal’s flowing gown on fire.

“Why do you resist? Do you not wish to rest?” Sri Lakshmi sung, her voice sweet and luring. 

Arenvald danced for another vril sphere but Livia had no need, her helmet already filtering out the Primals honeyed words.

Livia’s XIVth followed hot on her heels, surging into the room and, as commanded, at once making for the captives on the walls while Livia and Arenvald engaged Sri Lakshmi in unison.

Dainty dropped from the top of the cavern, landing on the distracted Primal’s back and driving both her daggers into its neck, severing both windpipe and jugular instantly.

Sri Lakshmi gurgled, flailed and with one last cry with whatever breath remained to her flung her head back and burst into a puff of black aether.

Dainty dropped lightly to the ground, holstering her weapons and glancing around quickly in case she needed to hide before quickly noting that she could claim Livia had found her above ground and let her ride in with her on the Reaper, thereby explaining her absence with the other captives.

Those peoples had already been mostly led out by the XIVth to receive medical attention if required, leading Arenvald free to scold;

“What took you so sodding long?!”

“You try climbing a cavern wall in a dress.” Dainty dared, gesturing at her now rather stained attire. “I was not expecting to have to face it as a Ninja.”

Cid, pushing through those trying to exit made his way into the room, breaking into a run when he spotted Dainty and fully picking her up the second he reached her side giving Arenvald his first opportunity to clap eyes on “Dainty’s Husband”

The man clearly cared very deeply for his Au Ra wife. Kissing her several times and burying his face in her hair and just clinging to her as she giggled, her arms wrapped around his neck. 

Her feet dangling in midair as he immersed her in a tight embrace.

“I’m fine, Cid.” Dainty was soothing, running a hand through his long white locks. “I was never in any danger.” 

Nothing mattered but kissing his face and reassuring him. She knew he struggled with the fact she had responsibilities beyond being Lady Garlond but did his best to support her always and she utterly adored him for it.

In the early days of their marriage Cid had often lamented that it was she doing the majority of the work to ensure they could be friends and lovers enough to fall for one another. It was her efforts that allowed them to be married in more than just word.

But Dainty had always argued he did not realize the value of learning how to be the Warrior of Light’s husband. Too many men would have expected her to give it all up, or not appreciated how much she had already surrendered to make him her priority now. 

Cid had been challenged by what she did but ultimately learned and grown to be her most ardent supporter. She had been scorned for her violence enough times before in her life to know how rare and invaluable a partner Cid nan Garlond was.

Not only that but where many men would have been too prideful to love a women who was their superior in physical strength Cid was humble enough to find her strength and abilities endearing. He stood in awe of them but did not put her on a pedestal. Where so many men saw her as an ideal, he just saw Dainty and she adored him for it.

“I know.” Cid promised, looking at her, a mix of affection and anxiousness on his features. “But seeing you led away by those Ananta, not able to do anything when I… I …love you, so much…”

Dainty gave a soft little gasp, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him desperately. 

She hadn’t been lying when she said that she did not need him to say it.

That it was enough for her that his actions conveyed it time and time again, but Dainty had secretly longed to hear Cid tell her he loved her in that wonderfully deep voice of his. 

She had never begrudged him the odd block he seemed to have when speaking the words “I love you” but finally hearing him say it took her breath away a little.

He didn’t know what had changed, he couldn’t explain even if his life depended on it. It was not as if his feelings had changed, or been intensified somehow, they were as they ever were. The deepest of admiration and love but for some reason he was now fully confident that that was what they were.

Not that Dainty would stop kissing him long enough for him to explain it, even if Cid had wanted too. 

“Stop being gross. You better not have done any of this nonsense on my Reaper.” Livia scolded, rolling her eyes behind her mask as the pair kissed again. She viewed public displays of affection as classless and tacky, like most Garlean citizens.

She pressed a button on her wrist and the White Devil trotted obediently to her side, allowing her to leap up into it gracefully. The independent battle protocols Cid had built into it were almost pleasing enough to be grateful for them.

“No, we stick to defiling the Reapers at the Estate.” Dainty smirked as Cid shuffled her a little in his arms, cradling her tenderly so that he could carry her out of the cavern. “I am quite fine.”

“Dainty, I am never going to get to actually rescue you. Let me at least pretend.” Cid scolded. He had been made to bully her in Ishgard, she could at least let him have the fun of rescuing her in Ala Mhigo.

Dainty giggled again, snuggling her face into his neck and sighed;

“Yes, my love.”

Arenvald followed along in the wake of the couple and Livia van Junius, riding her Reaper out of the cavern, not entirely sure what to do now.

On the surface he found himself hailed a hero, those that had been held captive that were not receiving medical attention coming over to shake his hand, and compliment him on being a true son of Ala Mhigo, making the youth, who was actually half Garlean, bashful and shy.

A blonde woman he did not recognize was talking animatedly with a white haired Elezen boy that he did.

“Wotcher, Alphinaud.” 

“Hello, Arenvald! Great work down there! Meet Yda, our newest oldest Scion.”

“Er, hello.”

Yda gave him more than a cursory nod before turning back to Alphinaud and gesturing to brunette man clad in the attire of a Monk who had trained with the Fist of Rhalgr.

“When the Mad King started his purges many of his lesser relatives, cousins and minor aunts, took to hiding their children among the common man.” Yda explained. “I knew of one hidden with the Fist of Rhalgr, and fortune has smiled upon us enough to have crossed our paths. Meet Widargelt, known at birth as Theodred.”

“I did not know.” Widargelt insisted, shaking his head. “But from what Miss Yda has told me about certain artifacts left with me when I were surrendered to the Monks I am all but certain it is true.”

“Ala Mhigo has had its fill of Kings. We don’t want a Monarchy, nor a single voice speaking for us but if Viceroy Junius were seen to be at least speaking with a known Member of the former Royal Family it would lend veracity to the notion of Garlemald handin’ Ala Mhigo back. It might be enough to get a conversation going.”

“It is certainly a better notion than any I have yet had.” Alphinaud agreed, glancing around Djanan Ghat and seeing many Ananta, Vira and Qaylana alike, Resistance members and regular Ala Mhigan citizens being tended to by the XIVth and their many medicus. “And the timing is unlikely to be better. Dainty has given us a rich gift indeed by arranging for Livia van Junius to take the credit for rescuing these people.”

“Oh yes, about her…what is she…. precisely?” Yda asked, shooting a glance as where the pretty scaled woman was being tended to sweetly by a white haired Garlean. 

He stood in stark contrast to Livia and the soldiers in that he wore the clothing of an Engineer, or mechanic and his white hair was worn long with a neatly trimmed beard, not following the rigid military protocols the others did.

“Dainty? I told you, she’s the Warrior of Light.”

“Yes I know that but what’s with all the scales?” Yda made a gesture around her head, mimicking the rough shape of Dainty’s cranial projections and Alphinaud gave a little groan.

“Oh Hells… you don’t know what an Au Ra is.”


	17. In Which Nero Fucks All The Way Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He really should have known no good would come from rebuilding the Ultima Weapon.  
> He really. Really. should have known.

Dainty and Cid had been in high spirits upon returning from Ala Mhigo.

By all accounts, things were progressing excellently. Cid was still uneasy about Livia’s plans to nominate herself as Gaius’ wife come the successful resolution of her mission, however, Dainty had assured him his fears were unfounded.

Whatever plan she and Livia had cooked up while girl-talking, Cid did not want to know. Nor did he entirely want to know why Dainty and Livia had spent several hours sparring in what was once the Ala Mhigan Royal Menagerie. 

Cid was quite happy to remain oblivious as to why Livia would need to be honing her hand to hand skills, if he was honest.

He had far more important things to dwell on. Like how much he loved his wife, and how proud of himself he was for finally being able to say it.

Dainty seemed to appreciate it very much too.

They had spent the entire return journey to Garlemald beside one another, fingers interlaced and very much the picture of a couple deeply in love, much to the discomfort of all who witnessed them.

Such overt public affection was still considered classless in Garlean society, even if mixed race marriages were very much in fashion.

Especially with Nero xe Scaeva’s having married a Miqo’te.

The Garlond’s good mood came to a rather abrupt halt as they arrived home however, to find F’lahminn on the porch, being tended to by a furious looking Alisaie.

“What happened?” Dainty asked, seeing all too quickly the bloodied mouth and half blacked eyes that F’lahminn tried to hide.

“Nero split her lip.” Alisaie replied bluntly.

“He did not. That was not Nero.” F’lahminn protested as Alisaie murmured a vercure to heal the wounds. 

Alisaie and Dainty exchanged looks that promised extreme violence, leaving F’lahminn to insist:

“Nero would never! He has been nothing but kind to me, I swear it. Respectful and treating me with dignity, everything he promised.”

“Back handing you for asking him to spend the morning with you isn’t respectful, F’lahminn.” Alisaie scowled, remembering how her own body had looked after being tortured and deeply triggered at seeing the now faded bruise on F’lahminn’s mouth.

“Something must have happened to him. He turned hostile as if overnight.”

“F’lahminn, you’re describing the cycle of abuse. Gentle and kind to reel you in, then a smart slap in the face over nothing. The fact you ran for Dainty will make him be oh-so-penitent and reel you back in again.” Alisaie cautioned.

Cid frowned deeply, kneeling and giving F’lahminn a reassuring smile.

“You can stay here as long as you like. Don’t think he can order you home either, Praefectus or not. He won’t risk Dainty’s ire by trying no matter how hostile he has turned.”

“I swear, Cid. That wasn’t Nero. I can’t tell you how I know, I just do!” 

“You sound like every other battered wife out there the first time she gets hit, F’lahminn.” Alisaie scolded, frustrated by what she perceived as F’lahminn excusing her abuser.

“I don’t entirely disbelieve you, F’lahminn.” Cid promised, earning him a smile for the Miqo’te.

“Cid, there is no excuse for this!” Alisaie scowled.

“And I’m not making excuses. I’m simply saying there is evidence enough for F’lahminn to be correct.” Cid insisted, rising and shooting a look at Dainty. It was so hard to tell her moods at times like this. 

She tended to revert to a steel eyed, silent Warrior in times of stress, or contention, leading many to describe her as stoic.

“What evidence could possibly stand beside this?” Alisaie scoffed, gesturing at F’lahminn’s now mostly healed face.

“I’ve witnessed Nero risk his military career to get between a Superior Officer and the mistress they were a bit too intent on drunkenly abusing, Alisaie.” Cid frowned. “This is just too out of character. He would not strike that which could not and would not strike him first.”

He knew the Twins had never witnessed it themselves, but he and the Tribuni had made comments enough before about Gaius having a taste for the violent that Alisaie ought to understand what he was saying by now.

“See!” F’lahminn insisted to Alisaie, who still looked skeptical. “Cid has known him longer than any of us.”

“Knowing what we do about Nero’s child-hood it isn’t entirely inconceivable to imagine he imitated the example he was shown as a child and…” Alisaie began but Cid cut her off.

“Nero has always been so vehement to not be his parents. To not be his heritage.” 

“When did he turn hostile?” Dainty questioned, frowning and wishing for an Echo vision but receiving nothing. Like Cid she did not necessarily believe Nero capable of violence against the defenseless F’lahminn but she had misjudged people before. 

She would never have believed Ilbered Frere capable of hacking off his lifelong friend, Raubahn’s, arm until she witnessed it personally, either.

“Nero started getting a little snippy with me about a week ago, shortly after you left for Ala Mhigo, Dainty. I thought he was withdrawing, putting up walls to protect his heart. He has done so anytime we were at risk of connecting… so I thought…. but he barely comes home and when he does, he won’t touch me. Before that he had never turned me down, not even when he was half asleep on his feet! He made some joke about being dead before turning down a willing woman.”

“Maybe his project is the key here. Do you have any idea what Nero has been working on?” Cid questioned, and his face paled when F’lahminn instantly turned to point at the Allagans canon on the eastern edge of the city. 

“That.”

“Oh no.” Cid murmured.

The world grey shifted in front of Dainty’s eyes and she watched, although unsure what she was looking at, as Nero xe Sceava ran his hands lovingly over the sleek black metal leg of an Allagans monstrosity so large 3 men could have napped on each of its shoulders. 

A small black crystal at his feet caught his attention, and Dainty’s as she watched the past play out, witnessing Nero put the crystal in his pocket before the vision faded.

Her lips thinned, turning with narrowed eyes to her husband, the Grand Minister of Innovation and, until Nero’s promotion, the only person capable of accessing the Allagans canon and whatever resided below it.

“What is really in that facility, Cid?” Dainty demanded, fury at having been lied to, even by omission, crawling its way up her spine.

“The Ultima Weapon.” Cid confessed and winced when Dainty’s eyes burned so bright the candle light orange limbal rings fully glowed. 

“You told me all the Allagans technology Garlemald had not yet integrated into their own tech was destroyed at Bozja.” Dainty hissed.

“Hold that thought Dainty, we’ve company.” Alisaie muttered urgently, not recognizing the dark-haired woman making her way furtively up the white pebble path to the main house where F’lahminn was being tended to on the porch by the others.

Whoever she was, she was checking over her shoulder anxiously as if she were being followed and carrying a pistol of Garlean origin. The woman, who Alisaie recognized as Doman, was quite possibly the most beautiful Hyur the Elezen had ever seen.

Her raven black hair was matched by soft red lips, bright but cold blue eyes and skin so perfectly pale the finest porcelain in Ishgard would be jealous.

“Lady Yotsuyu.” Dainty observed, stepping swiftly between Cid, Alisaie, F’lahminn and the newcomer.

If the beautiful Doman was looking for vengeance for having been unseated as Viceroy of Doma by being thrown out a window Dainty wasn’t going to give her a chance to fire upon the others.

“You.” Yostuyu leveled a shaky, unsteady hand at Dainty. “I know not what you are, Lady Garlond but I know you are more than what you claim. I come in peace…” she threw her weapon at Dainty’s feet, gambling these people could protect her from the monsters she feared at her heels. “… and I come in desperation. The wind howls so strong even I cannot bend with it.”

Her use of the Doman saying, albeit slightly modified, convinced Dainty that the woman really had come for help above a desire to revenge. 

Yotsuyu’s history was littered with countless acts of self-preservation and Dainty believed this to be one of the same.

Dainty shot a glare at Cid, promising she had not forgotten their thwarted argument before stepping towards Yotsuyu.

“Then you are in need of a stronger shelter, Lady Yotsuyu. Won’t you come in and tell us your woes?” Dainty offered softly and saw the look of pure relief that danced in Yotsuyu’s eyes before it was hidden behind a cold smile.

“Thank you, Lady Garlond.”

Dainty led the other woman, clad now in simple Garlean fashions rather than the lavish kimono she once wore, into the large front sitting room that attached to the kitchen. Dainty moved to put water on for tea as Alisaie, F’lahminn and Cid moved to join her indoors.

Alisaie knew who Lady Yotsuyu was from Alphinaud’s debriefing the Scions on what had occurred in Doma, although none had been absolutely sure the woman had survived her impromptu swim in the glittering basin. 

“I returned to Garlemald on foot, as you know. Looking to take my vengeance to those that wronged me, as you so pointedly counseled me to do, Lady Garlond. Before long I managed to make contact with my brother, Asahi sas Brutus and, through him, a small political party known as the Populares.”

“People who support the interest of the common man and some of Gaius’ most ardent supporters.” Cid explained.

“And they mean it! Most of them, at least. Despite being an influential member in their ranks Asahi believes none of their ideals. He is a rat. He worships the Galvus line and is in love with Zenos, who he plans to raise as a Kami!”

“A what now?!” Alisaie blurted out and in the kitchen, Dainty dropped a cup in surprise before catching it swiftly.

“Can you prove this, Yotsuyu?” Cid asked plainly, and the woman nodded.

“I joined the Populares to get close to Asahi intending to put a blade betwixt his ribs as soon as I were trusted enough to get close to him but in doing so I was informed of his plans. There is to be a ritual, I know not the details of that but fully Asahi believes he can bring Zenos back and together they will retake Garlemald’s Throne in Zenos’ name.” 

A soft little whisper manifest in Dainty’s mind and a chill up her spine as Yotsuyu spoke of her brother, the torment in Yotsuyu’s voice triggering something in Dainty’s Echo, no matter how the other woman tried to keep her voice level.

“You’ve a weapon on you. Where is it?” Dainty demanded, striding up to Yotusyu. 

“I haven’t. I carried only the gun.”

“You cannot lie to me. The kami granted me the ability to sense such things. Give it to me!”

“I carry nothing! Look!” Yostuyu insisted, fully turning out her pockets and revealing a tube of red lipstick and an odd mirror. It was much larger than what a woman would normally carry but smaller than a usefully sized hand mirror.

Dainty identified it at once as the source of her misgivings, reaching for it. “No! Mine!”

Yotsuyu snatched it away, blue eyes suddenly wide in terrified desperation to retain her mirror. 

“Give me the mirror, Lady Yotsuyu.” Dainty demanded, holding out her hand, standing over the woman who sat on the couch.

“No! Tis mine! It’s the only gift Asahi has ever given me!”

Dainty strafed, tackling the woman over the back of the couch and to the floor in one go and ripping the mirror from Yotsuyu’s hands as the woman howled as if demented. “Noooooo! Give it back its miiiiiiiiiine!!!”

Alisaie leapt quickly into action, F’lahminn on her heels, each grabbing one of Yosuyu’s arms and pulling her to her feet but holding her tightly in place as the dark-haired woman struggled.

“What is it Dainty?” Alisaie asked, anxious and unsettled but she would always trust Dainty’s Echo.

The Au Ra retreated carefully to the kitchen, examining the mirror under the light. 

“A relic of some kind although I am not the right person to say from where.”

“Give it to meeeeeeee!” Yostuyu wailed and before Dainty’s eyes the relic hummed faintly response.

“It’s feeding on her despair and on her aether.” Dainty drew it close to her face, twisting it just so to see the glint of a crescent moon and a laughing, azure eyed divinity of night inside it.

“Feeding? Oh Hells! It’ll summon a bloody primal!” Alisaie diagnosed, glaring at Yotsuyu instantly assuming the woman had come there to murder them all.

“Tsukuyomi, the Lady of the Moon.” Dainty agreed, her Echo allowing her to know certain details about the primal lest she ever need face it in battle.

Dainty turned on her heel, moving into a pantry and accessing the basement, hurling the mirror into it and firmly closing the door behind it, gambling that distance would do much to stem the flow of aether and torment between the relic and Yotsuyu. 

“No! No!” Yostuyu struggled anew but Dainty moved quickly to her side, projecting her Echo as a shield the way she had once before to shield Livia, Gaius and Nero from a tempering wave, hoping to sever the connection between Yotsuyu and Tsukuyomi.

“Your torment feeds her. If you do not resist it, you will be corrupted and hollowed out to a shell for her will.” Dainty warned. “I would not wish tempering on my most vile enemy. This is one wind you must stand tall against.” 

Yotsuyu, still being held in place by Alisaie and F’lahminn, frowned. A fog seemed to be lifting from her mind, she had not even realized her thoughts were clouded, so gradually had it manifest there.

Alisaie risked releasing Yotsuyu’s arm, the motherly F’lahminn instead putting an arm around Yotsuyu’s shoulders, attempting to comfort her.

“I don’t think we need Alphinaud’s mind for deduction to realize this is most assuredly an Ascian’s doing.” Alisaie observed as F’lahminn lead the now quiet, and seemingly deeply traumatized Yotsuyu back to the couch, settling her into place and pressing a cup of hot tea into her hands.

Cid had brought over the pot Dainty had started brewing, keeping a close eye on the situation but realizing he had very little to input when the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were at work.

“It has all the hallmarks. An unknown relic powering a primal manifestation, an obsessed, grieving lover manipulated into summoning an Elder Primal. An Ancient Allagans weapon.”  
Dainty nodded.

“Tis like a macabre repeat of all the Ascians’ greatest hits.”

“Not to mention a “ritual” that will likely leave as high a body count as Varis did when he summoned that bloody Eikon in the city.” Cid pointed out.

The exact details on how Varis had performed the stunt was yet foggy but it had taken almost 300 lives to perform it and it was well agreed that such a ritual had to have been taught him by an Ascian.

“What I don’t understand is why have Yotsuyu sacrificed to summon Tsukuyomi? Surely the Ascians would be all to well aware that Dainty is capable of defeating her and know that her summoning would put us on high alert.” Alisaie frowned.

“I think I can answer that.” Cid offered. “Ultima Weapon is an Anti-Eikon machine. In order to defeat them, and to power its internal weaponry, it eats them.”

“…what?” Alisaie looked confused and mildly disgusted.

“According to the texts, Ultima Weapon eats Eikons and gains their aether and abilities for itself. It’s been dormant for thousands of years, its systems depleted by inactivity. It follows from there that the plan was for Tsukuyomi to be summoned in close quarters to the Ultima Weapon, which would then eat it, gaining enough power to devastate the city for the ritual that summons an Eikonic Zenos.” Cid extrapolated.

He might not fully understand Eikon’s or Ascians or Aether but the Engineer recognized that engines needed fueled and could understand the most likely chain of events to accomplish that task from the puzzle pieces before them.

“Oh Hells, that does sound likely.” Alisaie agreed but looked at F’lahminn for a second. “So how does Nero fit into this mess? Surely, he would not be involved in this willingly. Someone who has witnessed the devastation caused by Ascians and Primals thrice would not be so willing to assist them, I am certain of it.”

“He’s been possessed.” Dainty diagnosed, explaining quickly her previously vague and inexplicable vision of Nero finding the crystal necklace at Ultima’s foot. 

“That would explain why he turned so nasty.” F’lahminn’s hand went to her bruised lip shakily.

“Yes, very much so. And you said he has been working himself into sleep deprivation, a compromised mind is easy for an Ascian to slip into, we learned that the hard way with Thancred and Lahabrea once upon a time.” Alisaie agreed. 

“Still I am nothing to them.” Yotsuyu murmured into her tea, eyes unfocused and an angry twist to her lips. “Not kith nor kin nor blood. Just a tool to be used.”

“Your brother is a blind, filthy worm. He will drag you down into the gutter trash that is his home and beat you with experience.” Alisaie agreed, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a coin purse. “The only way to win is not to play. I fear Tsukuyomi’s influence lingers in your mind deep enough that even without the mirror your torment might yet summon her if you linger near Asahi. Will you take this and go to Castra Meridianum in Eorzea? Rhitahtyn van Arvina will look after you.”

“A Castra?!” Yotsuyu’s head shot up, tone indignant. “Why not just sell me to a brothel and be done with it!”

It was not an untoward assumption that a beautiful woman, all alone, would be at risk in a barracks full of lonely soldiers.

The Garlean Army had a terrible reputation for acts of violence towards women that was not undeserved. Yotsuyu was well within her rights to fear being treated as little more than a pleasure house girl but there was a reason beyond distance that Dainty had nominated Rhitahtyn to watch over Yotsuyu.

“You have nothing to fear from Rhitahtan van Arvina, Lady Yotsuyu.” Alisiae, who counted the massive Roegadyn man a friend, assured the Doman woman. “Rhitahtyn eschews sexual desire believing it to be a distraction to the soul that reduces men to beasts.”

“A devotee of Restrictive Esoterism can be found in the Garlean Army? Surely, you jest!”

Such teachings were the work of Monks and Sages, not Legatus.

“Tis true and furthermore when Rhitahtyn hand selected his men for the reborn VIth Legion he chose from among that select circle for his highest officers while his ranks comprise mostly of those who enjoy the touch of their own gender. In doing so he granted a large measure of protection to a minority who would be otherwise persecuted. Of all the places in this realm the VIth Legion is the one place where you can be absolutely certain of your safety in all ways.” Alisaie added.

“Huh, I did not know that.” Cid commented, mostly to himself.

That certainly explained several things about the Roegadyn, including why Cid had never seen the man show interest in a woman, despite Gaius dangling more than one pretty Roegadyn conscript under Rhitahtyn's nose.

“I will go.” Yotsuyu finally agreed softly and took the coin purse as a fire entered her voice. “But I demand you allow me to return when all is done, and Asahi is in chains. You will not rob me of my vengeance!”

“Lady Yotsuyu, given how Gaius zos Baelsar deals with traitors and rewards those who have shown him loyalty, I daresay not only will Gaius let you light Asahi’s funeral pyre yourself but he will let you decide if the man is dead or alive when he goes up in flames.” Cid assured the woman with a grimace. Asahi deserved no less but it was still a rather graphic mental image. “We would have never known any of this until it was too late without your strength and bravery in coming to Dainty.”

Yotsuyu gave a disjointed little smile at Cid’s words, tipping her head back to look at him.

“Strong and brave are not words I am much used to hearing about myself. As flattered as I am, I shan’t get used to it.” With that Yotsuyu turned for the door, Dainty offering her back the gun she had carried for protection, a heavy coat fur lined coat and a hooded cloak to conceal Yotsuyu’s identity and keep her warm.

Where it was Spring in Garlemald it was Winter in Eorzea. Yotsuyu accepted the items with a small nod of farewell;

“The idea of watching Asahi squeal as the flames consume him will keep me good company in Eorzea.”


	18. Azys Lla Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alisaie makes a friend.  
> Dainty doesn't but that's probably given a good thing when its an Ascian.

“Well that is going to be a fucking problem.” Dainty scowled, looking at the empty facility where Ultima Weapon had once resided.

Its departure had been noted by a large number of people but as the orders had been given by Nero xe Scaeva, Praefectus Totaleum Immortum and the weapon was accompanied by a host of troop transport ships none had had any reason to think this anything other than a standard Military maneuver.

Such things were so commonplace in the Imperial Army that none even blinked.

Cid winced at his wife's tone.

He was in trouble for not telling her about the weapon sooner, he knew he was. The worst part was he honestly couldn’t have told her why it didn’t occur to him to do so.

Every time Gaius made snide, pointed comments about Cid not working on weapons that it was the Ultima Weapon that Gaius was subtly talking about. 

Fortunately, Cid had always managed to resist the low grade, constant pressure by sheer dint of his own, personal inventions being entirely too useful for Gaius to risk Cid defecting and Gaius losing everything.

Cid supposed that he hadn’t through to tell Dainty because the second he was reminded of the Ultima Weapon’s existence he promptly did everything possible to forget about it again. He chose to put it out of his mind over and over.

It was obvious that Yotsuyu had been being watched, as she had clearly feared, and the moment the shadows at her heels had seen her make contact with the Warrior of Light they had swiftly changed their plans.

“There is nothing in the travel orders Nero issued that denotes a location.” Cid commented, punching a couple commands into the communications panel of the facility and skim reading the history.

“Where would create the most chaos?” Alisaie mused. “Doma? Sever that alliance in its infancy?” 

“Or Ishgard!” Dainty fretted. “Gaius’ Eorzean stepping stone.”

“They’ve yet to power the weapon up.” Cid noted, running a couple diagnostics on the facility via the command panel and noting a distinct lack of power surges. “They’ll be looking for an easily found Eikon, no doubt, with Tsukuyomi lost to them.” 

There was no way for the Ascians to know where they had sent Yotsuyu, so they could safely rule out that they were attempting to follow the woman.

“Think, Alisaie, think!” the teenaged Elezen fretted, wishing her brother were there. He had always had a far better knack than her for deciphering hidden motives and guessing what the Ascians would do next. “I find it hard to believe they would make the mistake of provoking the Dragons of Anyx Tryn with aims of coaxing Ysayle into summoning Lady Shiva when the loss of the Agrias is yet so fresh in Garlean history. Yet I cannot think of anywhere else a Primal might be quickly sought. Does Nero know enough of Eorzean politics to provoke the Ixal, or Kobolds?” 

“Nevermind what Nero would do or knows. We must assume he is no longer piloting himself, let alone this catastrophe.” Dainty pointed out and Alisaie’s lips thinned but she nodded determinedly.

“The Ascian will want to stir up as much chaos as possible, therefore they will want to power up the Ultima Weapon with as minimal resistance as possible.”

“What about Azys Lla?” Cid offered. “Nero has held the key since Dainty and I returned from Ishgard. Dainty killed the Warring Triad but, as I understand it, a massive surplus of their aetheric energy surely remains, already siphoned from them over the course of millennia to power the flagship.” 

“None would resist them, or even know they were there! Nor would such a course of action provoke panicked messages to the Emperor demanding to know what an invasion force is doing in Dravania buying them more time to enact their suddenly sped up plans.” Alisaie nodded. “In this case I suspect the most obvious answer is the true one.”

“To Azys Lla then.” Dainty nodded. 

“Dainty, we’ve no key.” Alisaie reminded the Au Ra, who arched an eyebrow at Cid. He gave a penitent smile in response, withdrawing a cloned key from his pocket.

“I may have been planning to gate crash Nero’s research party once he got one under way. Call it revenge for all the times he went snooping in my workshop.” Cid admitted. “I made a copy or two long before Dainty surrendered it.”

Alisaie gave a laugh;

“Cid, you’re brilliant.”

“Sometimes.” Cid deferred, looking at the still stewing Dainty and knowing full well he had messed up and she was going to let him know it as soon as this was all resolved. “I know you’re mad, little love, but please come back to me safely.”

 

* * * *

 

Azys Lla was fully teeming with soldiers by the time Alisaie and Dainty arrived, and their presence was noted almost instantly. Having a key allowed them to slip through the barrier but the second they approached the half formed Castra Solus, once started and then abandoned by Regula Van Hydrus’ men, they were welcomed in a hail of gunfire.

Dainty banked their craft hard left, quickly opening up all the taps to get them swiftly out of firing range. 

“You know, Dainty, I’m starting to think you’re taking this whole married to a Garlean thing too far!” Alisaie quipped, yelling over the wind and clinging to the side the airship. She was only joking, knowing that bonding with her husband would have been Dainty only motivation for having Cid teach her the skill.

“Get bent, Alisaie, flying is fun.” Dainty returned with a laugh.

“No, it’s not! I still don’t know how they land these Godsawful, unwieldy contraptions without being able to see.”

“Extra sensory spatial awareness from that third eye of theirs, remember? Apparently, mine own as an Au Ra is equal to the task, or perhaps the Blessing enhances it enough.” Dainty commented. “Keep an eye for Ultima.”

“I am. I am. Ugh! Dainty! We’ve picked up a tail.” Alisaie warned, spotting several small airships deploying out of Castrum Solus. They had a hell of a head start but while that would aid them in escaping it wouldn’t aid them in getting close to the empty Containment Bays of the Warring Triad where Ultima was no doubt feasting.

“Hold on!” Dainty ordered, banking down sharply as they skirted the edge of the Flagship and see it was well guarded by troops. Alisaie clung tight and tried not to squeak. “When I say jump, jump. I’m going to ditch the ship into the Quarantine Block as a distraction and we’ll leap frog to the flagship via the transport nodes.”

Dainty had done something similar once upon a time and was familiar with getting herself around the floating Allagans City.

Dainty brought the craft low over the grounds of the Delta Quadrant, slowly the speed as much as she could before setting the controls on auto pilot, dead ahead in to the Quarantine Block.

“Jump, Alisaie!”

The Elezen did so, spying what she hoped was a somewhat soft patch of grass to cushion her fall. Her gambit proved successful and although she landed hard and rolled a couple times she was none the worse for wear for the emergency exit.

Dainty landed gracefully beside her, shuddering into the earth and almost forced to one knee by the impact but otherwise remained on her feet, her axe in her hand. Alisaie brushed some grass out of her hair and muttered “show off.”

Dainty laughed but otherwise remained silent, heading quickly deeper into the Delta Quandrant and away from the Flagship.

Alisaie assumed Dainty was heading for a transport node and was instead surprised when she lead them to Antithesis, a massive Allagans confinement device where the wyrm Tiamat was bound in duress.

Her wings were spread wide and tethered with chains, her arms and legs bound in coils similar to those that Alisaie had seen binding Bahamut’s children in the second binding coil below Eorzea.

Several piercing wounds marked her body, caused by the neurolink pins keeping her in place.

“So you returneth to this forsaken place, child of man.” Tiamat observed, red eyes impassive as they took in Dainty and Alisaie.

“Oh Gods, its alive!” Alisaie started. “How do we get it out?!”

“I am Tiamat, of Midgardsormr's first brood and I desire not freedom. I shall live with my regret until the world itself hath ceased to be. Such is my just punishment for consorting with Darkness─for calling forth a loathsome and lamentable creature which blackeneth my beloved's memory.”

“I understand, Tiamat and will not free you.” Dainty promised. “I have come to ask for one of your eyes. Tis the very Darkness that came to you in your despair I fight this day and playing the same game. Sweet whisperings in the ear of a grieving lover to resurrect a fallen beloved. Instead of Bahamut, we will have Zenos lest I avert this path.”

“Fully did I warneth that if thou wouldst end the conflict, vanquish thee the Ascians, and deliver the weak of will from the bonds of their dark influence.”

“Tis what I attempt, Tiamat. Join me, cede me one of your eyes, or by doing nothing know that you are assisting the Darkness once more.”

A ripple of something went through the dragon, the tiniest sliver of indignation after millennia of dwelling in lamentation and regret. 

Dragons and their pride were rarely parted.

“I shalt not assist the Darkness.”

“Dainty is right, by remaining here that is exactly what you are doing.” Alisaie challenged directly. “Inaction benefits the Oppressor, not the Oppressed. You could fight, and you could help us, your contributions would be indeed invaluable but by your refusal you lessen our strength. Anything that lessens our strength can only be a boon to our enemies, the Ascians!”

Something beyond placid, detached calm manifest in Tiamat’s eyes and Dainty muttered half under her breath;

“Keep going, you’re making her mad.”

“You know what, I don’t think you’re regretful about Bahamut being raised as a Primal at all. I certainly didn’t see you there ere I ventured thousands of malms into the earth to prevent him being reformed thrice!” Alisaie threw at the bound Dragon. “I think you’re quite happy doing what you’ve always done. Aiding the Darkness!”

Fury manifest in Taimat’s eyes, leading Dainty to leap sideways, tackling Alisaie to the ground before the dragon gave a defiant roar and a long column of flame like energy erupted where they had momentarily stood.

“Release me!” Tiamat bellowed. “Release me this instant that I may proveth you wrong!”

“Fucking gladly!” Dainty replied, bouncing to her feet although she was too slow as a long, warped red lance pulsing and twisted with power and being wielded by a silver haired Elezen man slammed into the controls of the Antithesis.

The console crackled, hummed and exploded, the Neurolink pins retracted, in an instant releasing Tiamat for the first time in 5000 years.

The dragon fell, her angry energy deserting her as her body shuddered hard into the earth, muscles wasted and unable to hold her massive body up without the fetters. The chains binding her wings were ripped from their tethers with the force of it.

A second Elezen, a woman with long blue grey hair and kind blue eyes moved at once to Tiamat’s head to offer soothing with her conjury. 

“Nice jump.” Dainty commented with a wry smirk to Estinien Wyrmblood, the man giving a nod and yanking his lance, Nidhogg, free from the wreckage of Antithesis.

“I cannot assist you, child of man. Yet let History knoweth I stood not idle against the machinations of the Darkness.” Tiamat sighed, closing her eyes as if preparing to die. 

She had not expected to be quite so weak.

“Perchance your inheritance might revive your spirits a little.” Dainty offered, withdrawing from her pockets two dragon eyes, humming and glowing with power and proving in an instant her requests for one of Tiamat’s eyes had been nothing more than a smoke screen to make the wrym listen to her.

“Nidhogg’s Eyes.” Estinien felt his eyebrows just about meet his hairline to see them. “How?”

“A story for another time but I own it were an error on my part to follow Aymeric’s advice of pitching them into the void below Foundation. They belong to his brood-mates.” Dainty said, tucking one, then other behind each of Tiamat’s wings.

The effect was immediate, the weakened dragon opening her eyes and rising easily to her feet.

“Mine brood brothers eyes have grown fat with Aether that is not his own.” Tiamat observed, her massive head moving closer to Dainty, and Alisae who was behind her. “Your aether, child of man.”

“Yes. I’ve been keeping them close by in the kitchen cupboard.”

“What? Where?” Alisaie demanded. Given that she lived with Dainty and had never seen them this came as something of a shock.

“In the pantry, under that ugly brown bowl I hate but won’t throw away.”

“Is that where Tsukuyomi’s Mirror ended up?” Alisaie asked and Dainty smiled before turning to Estinien and Ysayle.

“Not that I am not delighted to see you, friends, but how did you know I was here? Please do not say Ishgard is involved in this mess somehow.”

“No. Estinien and I live here, on Azys Lla.” Ysayle explained and tucked her hand into Estinen’s with a smile. “Together.”

The heretic and the dragon slayer had come together following her rescue from Ala Mhigo, turning their backs on Ishgard for a simple life in the Beta Quadrant.

“We were on our way to investigate the sudden influx of Garleans when we heard Tiamat’s roar. Whatever you face, Dainty, know you have my lance at your disposal.” Estinien promised.

“The Lady Shiva stands ready, and willing to assist you.” Ysayle promised, fingering a crystal necklace she wore.

“And my wings to bareth thou.” Tiamat vowed. 

The airships that had caused Dainty and Alisaie to turn tail and run were of little consequence to Tiamat, fully empowered by Nidhogg’s eyes.

They caught up to the wyrm and her 4 passengers near the Flag Ship, having realized by now the ship that crashed into the Quarantine Block was empty.

A lazy tail swipe flattened one to the Azys Lla earth, a blast from Tiamat’s mouth vaporized the other.

The wind streaming through her hair and turning her carefully maintained curls into a pile of frizz and tangles caught Dainty’s attention more than the actions of the great beast upon which they were mounted or the conversations of her companions.

Alisaie was cautioning Ysayle not to summon Shiva, lest she be eaten by Ultima as Dainty was grumbling to herself about having to spend another entire day in the salon chair coaxing her unruly hair into some semblance of normalcy.

Still, at least that was preferable to tying her hair up and her cranial projections sticking out awkwardly for the world to see.

Ultima Weapon was greedily feeding on the surplus Eikonic energies of Sophia, still suffused throughout Containment Bay 16 as Tiamat cruised over-head and Dainty stood, taking a perfect swan dive off the dragon’s back and onto the Weapon’s shoulder.

This proved to be a mistake as it very quickly shrugged her off as if she were a gnat, sending her careening to the floor of the bay to roll a couple times.

Dainty rose, eyes narrowed and reaching for her axe as the Ultima Weapon shifted, its mechanical eyes glowing as they locked in on her.

“My, how strong you’ve grown, Warrior of Light.” Whoever was controlling Nero commented, sarcastic, voice distorted by both Nero’s armor and being inside the Ultima Weapon. “But sometimes the strongest things are the most brittle.”

Dainty, who had never particularly seen the point of wasting her breath on things she was about to hit with her axe, simply glared.

“No reply, very well. Let us fight but know that any actions you take against me dooms the mortal form I have assumed. Live with your choice.”

 _Sorry, F’lahminn_ – Dainty apologized silently as Ultima Weapon roared.

The Miqo’te had remained at the Garlond Estates with Tartaru but had begged Dainty to return her husband to her alive.

Dainty had given a nod but made no promises. She couldn’t. Ultimately Dainty had to and would do whatever would end the Ascians’ machinations.

 

* * * * 

It was about the time that Travanchet had been punched repeatedly in the face that it occurred to him that he might have underestimated the Warrior of Light.

In hindsight, he supposed this was the inevitable conclusion but he had not believed Elidibus’ urging that 3 Ascians had already fallen to her. Perhaps not by her hand but by events and doings she had set into motion.

Nabriales, Igeyorhm and Lahabrea, Overlords who should never have been capable of being slain had all experienced permanent death for having challenged her.

Even fully casting ultima, a spell of unparalleled force and destruction, from the Heart of Sabik and stripping her of the Shield of Light granted to her by Hydaelyn had done little to slow the Au Ra down.

If anything it had made her fight harder, determined to make sure he couldn’t cast it a second time and stripping that ability from him by causing enough damage to the Ultima Weapon that it exploded and ejected him from its cockpit.

Travanchet having possessed the body of someone she called friend failed to stall her either, bringing her strength to bare against the mortal form Travanchet had possessed without hesitation or regards once he was no longer protected within the Ultima Weapon.

Weakened the Ascian surged forwards and met Dainty’s axe as it slammed into the armored form of Nero, hurling him back several feet.

Dainty was panting, it had not been an easy fight but she had prevailed, moving forwards as her eyes burned. 

She would take no pleasure in killing Nero to force the Asican back into the space between worlds but if her choice was his death or the Ascian possessing him remaining free to continue to wreak havoc on the star she hoped that Nero would have understood her choice.

_Only the light can drive out the dark_

Dainty blinked, she was well familiar and comfortable with receiving Echo visions but hearing Hydaelyn actually speak without first pulling her up into the aetherial sea first was unusual and made her pause momentarily.

Dainty’s Blessing of Light was fading fast, she knew it well.

Hydaelyn had expended too much power in shielding her from ultima but the Mother Crystal seemed to be inferring that Dainty use the last of it to force the Ascian out of Nero, rather than killing him.

Doing so would leave her weakened, possibly for years but Dainty had always trusted the Mother Crystal. Clearly Nero still yet had a part to play, just as Gaius had once before. 

She set aside her axe, drawing back her arm and willing every last mote of the Blessing within her into a spear of light. It flickered to life, glowing and growing in vibrancy and stretching, floating above her outstretched hand.

Travanchet twitched and Dainty hurled the spear of light directly through Nero’s chest, her aim undiminished for the now drained blessing. 

“AAAAAAARRRGH!!!” Travanchet’s scream rolled around the Containment Bay and Nero slumped, utterly unconscious on the floor, the Ascian forcefully pulled from within his flesh by the spear.

“Tiamat, now!” Alisaie called, seeing the separated Ascian, its dark aether swirling around it.

Curiously, unlike other Ascians its true form seemed to be that of an Elezen, rather than a Hyur but the dark robes and the taint of darkness was unmistakable.

Tiamat dove down, shaking the bay as she landed and Alisaie snatched up one of Nidhogg’s Eyes from behind her wing.

She thrust the Eye towards Travanchet and in an instant it began to feed on his weakened aether.

Much like Thordan had been able to send Lahabrea to true oblivion using one of Nidhogg’s eyes did Alisaie prove equally capable of doing so to Travanchet with the other of that dreadwyrm’s eyes.

There was a great clap of thunder, and a rending noise that made Dainty wince and Alisaie slap her hands over her ears and Travanchet ceased to exist. 

To the Eye aether was aether, the inanimate object caring not if it came from the surplus of an Eikon Slayer or the soul of an Ascian.

“Nero!” Alisaie cried, running quickly to the crimson armor-clad man’s side and coaxing off his helmet gently.

“Does he live?” Estinien asked as he and Ysayle joined them. He nodded to Dainty. “We were able to drive the troops back to the Castra. Without communication from their leader I doubt they will venture out again promptly.”

“He does, but barely. Ysayle?” Alisaie beckoned the woman over, requesting her help in weaving healing spells around the unconscious blond Garlean.

Dainty picked up Nero’s helmet, considering it in silence for several long moments.

It was likely that her and Alisaie’s manner of arrival via small, personal craft and moving to battle the Ultima Weapon alone from dragon back had prevented any of the troops from seeing her closely enough to recognize her as Lady Garlond.

Likely they would assume her another Elezen, given that her 3 companions all were.

However with the ship sacrificed to buy them time there was no other way of getting back to Garlemald than with the troops Nero had brought there. 

It was going to be impossible to explain what the teenaged, vapid, Society wife Aurora Garlond was doing carrying the unconscious form of the Praefectus out of Azys Lla when there was no logical reason for her to be anywhere than in Garlemald, at the Garlond Estates, baking a pie for her husband.

Dainty clearly had not thought her plan to ditch the ship into the Quarantine Dock all the way through, still she judged there was a fairly strong possibility that Cid would come looking for her if she was not home by nightfall.

After a few moments of formulating and discarding plans based on ease of pulling it off and believability she approached Estinien, holding out Nero’s helmet.

“Modulate your voice lower and identify yourself as Nero xe Scaeva. Say that the Ascian has been defeated in the name of Gaius zos Baelsar, for the Glory of the Empire. Order them to return to Garlemald ahead of you. With any luck they will buy it and leave us to figure out what the Hells to do next.”

Estinien nodded, pulling his under shirt up over his mouth to further disguise his voice before donning the helmet to activate the communications module and relaying Dainty’s orders.

After a few moments Estinien removed the helmet and offered it to Dainty. 

“I heard naught but some crisp “Yes, Praefectus!” as replies.”

“Thank the Twelve for that.” Dainty sighed, accepting the helmet.

“I really hope you’ve a plan for how to get us home.” Alisaie commented, watching the skies fill with Imperial airships making the return journey to Garlemald and unknowingly stranding them there.

“Well, we could beg Tiamat for a ride somewhere but given that you and I are wanted women in Eorzea I don’t like our chances of that going well for us.” Dainty offered. “Failing that, we drag Nero above ground to the main deck and wait for Cid to show up looking for me.”

“I like that second option.” Alisaie nodded.

“As doth I.” Tiamat agreed moving her head to get a better look at Alisaie as the slender Elezen teenager approached, holding out the Eye she had borrowed. 

“My thanks for its use, Tiamat.”

The dragon gave a shake, dislodging the other of her brood brothers Eye from beneath her wing. She sat on her up on her haunches, gathering up Nidhogg’s Eyes gently in her claws, holding them as one might a precious newborn child.

“Mine brothers Eyes, each hath now claimed the eternal death of an Ascian.” Tiamat observed, seemingly at random and then promptly ate both of the Eyes.

“That…seems as good a use for them as any.” Estinien commented, aware that by consuming the eyes Tiamat was permanently assuming her brood brothers’ powers and symbolically consuming the Darkness that once manipulated her.

“Geez, when he wakes up remind me to tell Nero to lay off F’lahminn’s cooking.” Alisaie muttered, gripping the man around the legs in preparation to carry him above ground with Dainty.

“Allow me, child of man.” Tiamat rumbled, amused by Alisaie’s tenacity.

“With pleasure!”

“Where will you go now, Tiamat?” Ysayle asked as they worked to haul the unconscious man over the Dragon’s back and began to walk up to the Flag Ship’s dock. “Tis mine desire you might choose to reside with Estinien and I, here in Azys Lla.”

She touched hand to her stomach tenderly in a significant and telling gesture. “It is our hope to begin a new generation of skylords and landlords, coexisting and fully cognizant of their shared history.” 

Tiamat considered this in silence as they walked.

No one took offense as the silence stretched on, well aware that time moved differently for dragons than it did for Man. Tiamat, in giving that request her full consideration, might not even have an answer until Estinien and Ysayle’s children were having children of their own.

Fortunately the wyrm seemed to be in a decisive mood.

“I shall visit mine brood brother, Hreasvelger. Depending upon his word I shalt likely return to this land to brood beside thou.”


	19. Azys Lla Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good fight always makes Dainty mellow and understanding.

“You know what I could go for right now?” Alisaie observed, her dark blue eyes looking out over Azys Lla as she and Dainty sat on the edge of the flagship, their feet dangling off into nothingness.

“Hmm?” Dainty made a curious noise from where she was attempting to brush the tangles out of her hair with her fingers and doing little but making it frizzier.

“One of Uriangers herbal cigarettes. The scenery is amazing.” Alisaie gave a sweeping gesture over the green atherial skies and Allagans technology riddled islands, pulsing and glowing with red. “But can you imagine how it would look if you were just a whisker high?”

Dainty gave a little laugh, then turned over her shoulder to glance at the armored, Garlean man sprawled out on the ground behind them. Nero was utterly unconscious, Alisaie had taken off her coat and balled it up beneath his head for him and his helmet was sitting by her hip.

“Think he will wake before Cid thinks to come get us?” Alisaie asked.

“Doubtful. Thancred was out for 3 whole days when he was possessed. They always forget to feed them.”

“huh?”

“The Ascians, when they possess a mortal form they tend to forget that the host needs food, and water. Nero’s been sustained by the Ascians aether, it is not quite as devastating as simply going without sustenance, but he is still going to be weakened for a while.” Dainty explained and Alisaie gave her a speculative look.

“I didn’t know that. You know, Dainty, I think you’ve gotten smarter since you’ve been married to Cid.”

That earned her a dire glare from the Au Ra and a rather withering toned;

“I was never not smart, Alisaie. I’m simply allowed to sit and read a book now without someone popping up at my elbow and announcing that since you aren’t doing anything, would you mind polishing this kettle for this one guy who I owe a favor to?”

Dainty had modulated her voice higher in an approximate attempt to mimic Minfilia Warde and Alisaie instantly recognized the impersonation. “I will grieve the Scions for the rest of my days but no I bloody don’t want to return to the Waking Sands, Minfilia. I want to have a nice cup of hot apple cider and to read a little about the History of the Nym!”

There was a hint of resentment in Dainty’s voice that Alisaie did not begrudge her.

“They always did run you ragged.” Alisaie acknowledged.

“I will agree that I’m kinder now. I am less stoic and being married to Cid is the cause of it. Marriages live and die by communication and keeping myself reserved was not tenable if I wished my marriage to be successful. But, I will never agree that it made me smarter. I might not be as “learned” as the Archons for I weren’t given the opportunity to be so!” Dainty insisted forcefully. “And I should like to see any one of you wield an axe with the skill I can! Or cook a pie like I do. Just because my learning tends towards practical abilities rather than what was taught to me at the Sharlayan Studium never made me less smart, Alisaie.”

“You’re right, Dainty and I apologize for giving offense. It was a truly unthinkingly inaccurate thing on my part to say.” Alisaie agreed quickly, feeling suitably rebuked.

“My favorite thing in the world is hitting things with my axe but I do like other things.”

“Psh, your favorite thing in the world is Cid nan Garlond, let us be honest.” Alisaie scoffed.

“A fair point.” Dainty conceded.

Alisaie cleared her throat, their easy-going conversation momentarily made awkward by her blunder but she regarded the mint green haired Au Ra from the corner of her eyes for a moment, before turning her face towards her and observing;

“At risk of giving offense again… you seem off somehow, Dainty. Are you still upset because of Cid lying?”

Dainty, who had been looking off over the horizon slowly turned, still attempting to rake her fingers through her hair, and gave Alisaie a glower.

She had always insisted that she would never discuss any marital problems she may have with the Twins. That fights she and Cid may or may not have were a private matter to be resolved behind closed doors.

There would be no “sides” taken because it was none of the Twins’ business.

If they were mad with Cid for not telling the Scions about the Ultima Weapon themselves, independent of Dainty then that was fine, but she would never involve them in her marriage.

“Oh, I am winning conversation awards today, I see.” Alisaie muttered, wilting a little at the weight of Dainty’s magenta and orange gaze.

The effect of slowly glowing limbal rings when one was being glared at could not be overstated.

“You’ve gotten too used to being able to say whatever you want to sleeping beauty here, knowing he will take no offense and it’ll lead into a good verbal sparring match but I ain’t Nero, Alisaie.” Dainty scolded, hitching a thumb at the unconscious Nero.

“You are right.” Alisaie agreed finding no error in Dainty’s assessment. “I have always been direct, but my manners have been truly shocking of late.” 

She was quickly reminded of speaking out of turn to Gaius in Ishgard. She had been raised far better than to react so insulting as to ask the Emperor of Garlemald if he was out of his mind, no matter how provoking a statement he had offered her.

“And I seem off because my Blessing of Light is gone. You may as well know it sooner than later.” Dainty observed, finally giving up on her hair and resorting to containing it in two long braids.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Got your Aether Goggles? Look at me.” Dainty suggested, finding that the easiest way to explain the situation.

Alisaie hesitated a moment, then unhitched the device from her hip and put it on carefully, taking pains not to crush her ears before looking at Dainty’s aetherial signature.

Alisaie blinked.

“Dainty…. Where is all your aether?” the Elezen teen asked in a small voice.

She was used to seeing the Warrior of Light literally aflame with aether. It burned so bright around her soul that Dainty appeared almost like one of the Elementals of the Twelveswood with wings and halos and no discernible features due to the glow.

Instead, although her levels were elevated, Dainty appeared not much different than any mage, or scholar who was well practiced at aetherial manipulation. 

“Gone for a time.” Dainty repeated, then explained the wound the Ultima spell had inflicted upon Hydaelyn and using the last of her blessing to drive the Ascian out of Nero. “Hydaelyn is weakened. I dare not risk draining her further by her continuing to power my Blessing so I have cut myself off from her temporarily.”

“This has happened to you before.” Alisaie diagnosed, realizing that Dainty knew too much about it to have not lived through it once before. Alisaie didn’t even know that one could be cut off from their Blessing of Light but Dainty spoke of it with a familiarity and ease that could only have come from prior experience.

“You are correct. At Ul’Dah.I stood against a literal army of Brass Blades and Crystal Braves and walked out without a scratch on me. You must own, Blessing or no, a single, mortal, Warrior should not have been able to do that.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“Hydaelyn shielded me and drained herself to do so. It was Midgardsormr who blocked me from my blessing then and that was why I hid so desperately in Ishgard. Had I been at full strength I would have let the City States find me and let them be as bloody sorry as Ul’Dah for having done so!” Dainty added savagely. 

Alisaie removed her goggles and quietly mulled over what Dainty had said;

“For all our well being's let us hope this is the end of this particular Ascian plot. Twelve help us if they yet manage to summon Zenos and you cannot challenge him!”

Dainty shielded her eyes momentarily, spying a small Imperial made Viltgance style airship approaching them from off in the distance.

“Tis not the best option, since it’ll like cause significant collateral damage to innocent civilians but at least once Nero wakes, should a Primal Zenos be summoned, the Praefectus can order an aerial bombardment enough to put the fucker down.” Dainty observed.

She had seen Garlean weaponry brought to bear against Primals twice now, and knew it was effective if indiscriminate when it came to killing bystanders. Engaging a Primal in single combat was still the best way to minimize loss of life, however it wasn’t the only way to end them.

“No wonder the Ascians wanted Nero out of the picture so utterly. Possessing him really was a masterful stroke.” Alisaie observed, then gave a wave to the airship that drew close enough to see it was helmed by Cid nan Garlond. “Hoi, Cid! We’re glad to see you!”

“They must have wet their pants with unbridled glee when he started sleep depriving himself enough to be vulnerable.” Dainty agreed, rising to her feet and waving in greeting to Cid as he docked the airship. “Hello, my love.”

Cid’s blue eyes took in Nero’s sprawled form and grimaced: 

“Is he dead?”

“Nope. Just having a Hells of a nap.” Alisaie grinned as Cid stilled the airship, tethering it via hooks momentarily and then stepping onto the cold metal gangway of the flagship in order to help carry Nero on board.

He paused by Dainty’s side, not entirely sure how his desire for her reassuring touches would be received when she was upset with him but she put her arms around him for a hug and held her mouth up to be kissed quite pleasantly.

Cid lingered in the embrace, breathing in her scent and feeling his stress draining away. His little wife was fine, just stranded. There was no more need to worry, she was restored to him, hale and hearty, as she always was.

He held her very tight, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. As the hours had elapsed and she had not returned home he had worried himself almost sick for her, despite chiding himself that it was unnecessary.

He just loved her so entirely, he couldn’t fathom what he would do without her anymore. To lose her after only just managing to acknowledge his love would have been torturous. 

“I’m sorry to have worried you. I know you fret when I am gone.” Dainty said softly, giving Cid a tight squeeze around his ribs. She would rather have not left him to stew until he came looking for her but had had very few other options. 

“I might have worn a path in the carpet with pacing.” Cid chuckled a bit, kissing her forehead before releasing her and moving to collect Nero. “Oof! Remind me to tell him to lay off the cakes.”

“Ha!” Alisaie chortled, having said the same thing when trying to heft the blond man.

“Not that I can talk.” Cid muttered, carrying Nero on board and setting him down gently at the back of the ship where the ride would be the smoothest. He poked himself in the midsection that wasn’t quite as chiseled as it had been a year ago. “Dainty, I love you, but you might need to stop baking for a while.”

Dainty giggled as she boarded and plane, positioning herself at the front beside the steering controls and Alisaie moved to the back to keep an eye on Nero.

Cid approached her and the controls slowly, trying to mentally prepare himself for a tough conversation. He still had no defense for having failed to tell her about Ultima Weapon. He had vowed to support her as a Scion no matter what.

He should have told her; those two things were mutually inclusive. 

Had the Scions known sooner they likely would not have been taken by surprise by all that occurred, only getting lucky that Yotsuyu hated her brother enough to want to thwart his plans.

“I had a feeling your hair might not appreciate a rather hurried airship flight.” Cid observed, giving one of her braids a gentle, affectionate tug. After a year of marriage, he was well familiar with the attention her curls required lest they turn into unruly frizz. “I made you an appointment at your favorite salon, spa, thingy for tomorrow.” 

“Are you trying to bribe me into not being mad at you?” Dainty asked with a little smirk, eyes momentarily glancing at Alisaie and seeing the Elezen teen was distracted enough with Nero to not over hear the conversation.

“Yes.” Cid nodded with a grimace, slowly getting the aircraft underway for their return to Garlemald.

“I do appreciate a spot of good bribery; however, I am not mad. I was upset to learn about Ultima Weapons’ existence in this manner, but I know you, husband. I know full well it was oversight, not maliciousness on your part. I am confident you did not willfully keep its existence from me so much as you as tried to forget it existed altogether.”

“Yes!” Cid blurted out, grateful that Dainty’s unholy perceptiveness had quickly clued into what had occurred. He had not meant to not tell her he had just tried to put the weapon out of his mind so excessively that, to a large degree, he had.

“I also realized later you never said “all” the Allagans weaponry was destroyed at Bojza. You said most. I assumed that the canon was the only piece remaining. When we return I should like to sit down and make a full list of any relics you know to exist so that this does not occur again but otherwise I am not angry.”

“I’m so glad.” Cid breathed a sigh of relief, then frowned. “Dammit, I can’t take my hands off the controls to hold you.”

Dainty gave a little laugh, slender enough to duck under one of his arms and insinuate herself between him and the wheel.

It was a tight squeeze, not that either of them minded, Dainty wrapping her arms around Cid’s midsection and resting her cheek against his chest, the cranial projection on that side flattening slightly to allow the affection. Cid gave a content sigh, risking taking one arm off the controls to wrap it around her shoulders. “That’s better. I love you, Dainty.”

“I love you too, Cid.”


	20. Ala Mhigo - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Livia is so close to her prize, she can taste it.

“Liberty or death.” Raubahn intoned lowly, running a hand along the pitted, battle damaged stone wall.

In the dark it was hard to make out the words, but he knew they were there all the same. They were etched indelibly into his memory and his soul.

His dark eyes small and framed only by sparse lashes closed of their own volition as he breathed deeply, savoring the air of his homeland. His build, strong enough to rival some Roegadyn and broad, thick nose marked him indelibly as an Ala Mhigan.

A light breeze ruffled the cape at his left shoulder, the rounded bell of his shoulder armor disguising the absent arm below the shoulder.

The faintest suggestion of footsteps behind him opened the man's eyes and he spoke without looking behind him, having fully expected to meet his contact in the abandoned town at 7 after sun down.

“News?” Raubahn rumbled.

“The new Viceroy, Livia van Junius, has ordered a large amount of supplies for the region. Food and farming equipment are being dispensed by the XIVth and those that were injured by the Qaylana are being tended to in the palace."

An uneasy feeling settled into Raubahn's gut at this information. "Van" was the title given to Garlean generals, more commonly known as Legatus. Livia, promoted from Tribunus auticlavus, had been awarded control of what was once Gaius zos Baelsar's personal legion.

"This feels a trap." Raubahn murmured and resting his clenched fist on the nearby stone masonry.

He had feared retaliation ever since he had learned that the Ala Mhigan Resistance had succeeded in ambushing and murdering the previous Viceroy. Such a blatant attack upon Garlean rule would not fail to go unpunished, it had seemed obvious that the prideful Emperor would not tolerate this attack on Garlean forces lightly.

Gaius zos Baelsar once called Ala Mhigo his personal playground, having been the instigator in bringing it to heel and having once been its lauded Viceroy before falling from Solus' favor.

Yet, true to the Emperor’s word at Starlight, that did not seem to be the reason for Livia van Junius being let loose in Ala Mhigo. 

“Any word of the white haired Elezen male?” Raubahn demanded.

When reports had first begun to surface of an Elezen in Emperor zos Baelsar’s court none had thought too much of it. 

Most assumed him to be an Ishgardian, as Garlemald's friendship with Ishgard made that the most obvious answer as to how an Eorzean had come to be seen in the presence of the Gaius’ Tribuni.

Then word began to trickle back that it was he who felicitated the peaceful hand over of Doma from Garlean occupation to her peoples. If the Elezen was here in Ala Mhigo then Raubahn might yet dare hope that the yoke of Imperial occupation was to be withdrawn from Ala Mhigo as it had from Doma.

“Well, man?” Raubahn snapped, turning when his informant did not answer him and finding himself in the company of a cloaked figure, rather than an Ala Mhigan grunt. Bile crawled up the back of Raubahn’s throat to see the stranger.

Their height marked them as anything from a short Au Ra or Hyur to a child of any number of races, although their graceful movements as they walked closer suggested Elezen.

“Word enough yet.” The slender figure observed with a polite inclination of his head. “We are well met this day, Flame General Aldynn.”

“Are we?” One dark eyebrow arched, tone betraying his annoyance. “You have my measure, but I do not have yours.”

“No. I should not imagine you do.” Alphinaud agreed, slowly lifting down his hood to reveal his bright blue eyes and shock white hair. 

Raubahn stared. 

“Alphinaud Leveilluer.”

“Iyi Leveilluer.” Alphinaud corrected, giving a small gesture to the Garlean symbol on his right breast and his white attire. “I am here as Principus Senatus to assist Viceroy Livia van Junius in the hand over of Ala Mhigo to her peoples.”

“This is what the Scions of the Seventh Dawn have been reduced to?! Garlean Citizens who ask, “how high?” when the Emperor says “jump?” Raubahn snarled.

This earned him an undignified guffaw of laughter from a blonde woman he had not seen before, sitting on some downed Masonry.

“Reduced?” Yda challenged. “Yer out yer damn mind. There is a large difference between “jump” and “you are hereby empowered to free an enslaved country.” You can bet your missing arm the Circle of Knowing says “with pleasure, your Radiance.” to the latter. A battlefield isn’t the only way to win one’s freedom. Dying is easy, soldier. Living is the hard part…. So said my Father the day some idiot carved those words you’re currently fingering.”

“The bull of Ala Mhigo, as bull-headed as ever.” Alphinaud agreed.

“…wait…” an inkling of whom he was addressing suddenly filtered through Raubahn’s mind. His dark eyes widened, taking the blonde woman’s measure. “Not possible….”

“Says you. The prison cells what’s been my home these 6 years past’ll disagree with you.” Yda returned tartly, jumping down lightly and strolling closer. “You know who I am, and who my sire were. I’m as Ala Mhigan as you, and I am telling you; these Garleans and their allies aren’t the enemy. Not this time.”

“Garlemald will always be the enemy!”

“Is that so? As I recall it was Eorzea that tortured my sister for refusing to give up my whereabouts. I wonder at your claims when the City States’ chose to kidnap and beat a child they knew was innocent of the crimes they claimed.” Alphinaud accused, instantly putting Raubahn on the defensive.

“T’was Limsa’s doing, not ours! The Sultana made her stance on that very clear.”

“And was soundly ignored, as usual.” Alphinaud waved this away blithely, a habit picked up from Gaius and setting Raubahn’s teeth on edge with his dismissive tone towards Nanamo. “Just as the Sultana is with this new set of Monetarists. How long before another ends up split navel to neck, bleeding out upon the palace stones as I was?”

Raubahn’s voice left him as a wordless growl, yet he could not find a suitable counter for Alphinaud’s accusations. 

Were the Elezen anyone else Raubahn might have found an answer but there were few who had been so transgressed against by Ul’Dah as Alphinaud.

As much as the Ala Mhigan man fully hated Garlemald and rankled at seeing Alphinaud there, in Garlean attire, Raubahn could not claim Eorzea was innocent of its own myriad of sins.

Alphinaud reached into his pocket and withdrew a sealed envelope that bore no markings bar Raubahn’s name in simple script.

He offered it to the larger, dark skinned man.

“What is this?” Raubahn eyed it.

“A personal request, from Livia van Junius, that Raubahn Aldynn might call upon the palace to visit those injured by Sri Lakmshi. Once we heard you were in the area it was thought your presence might be of assistance in persuading people that Garlemald can be trusted.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Is the idea so distasteful? Do yer know a better way t’get the conversation going without resorting to bloodshed?” Yda questioned.

Again Raubahn found himself rendered silent, his retorts and snarls about where Alphinaud could shove Livia’s personal requests dying in his throat. He didn’t know a better way.

There was no better way.

Even if Ala Mhigo could raise a Resistance Army enough to drive Garlemald out it would be little more than a suicide effort.

It had always been clear that Ala Mhigo could not simply be handed back, resources were stretched too thin. Simply withdrawing anything and everything Garlean from the country would bankrupt it as any gil currently being spent in the realm was that which came from the Empire’s coffers.

Even with all the soldiers gone their mouths would quickly be replaced by Ala Mhigan refugees returning from Ul'Dah and other locales.

The fact that the Emperor, for whatever reason, wanted Ala Mhigo to continue to live on as an allied state was the regions sole lifeline right now, so desperate were her people and depleted her resources.

He already knew all this, the plight of his country having weighted heavily in his mind since before even the Starlight Feast.

Raubahn lowered his head, almost as if a beast of burden might to accept a farmers yoke. 

“I will come.” 

“Thank you, General.” Alphinaud gave Yda a nod before drawing the hood of his cloak back over his head and falling into step with the Ala Mhigan pair.

A Garlean transport with a matched pair of decurions were waiting a little way out from the edge of the ruined town. The salutes Alphinaud was given as they approached again made Raubahn uneasy but he climbed in behind Yda dutifully. He wondered what Conrad Hext would say if he could see his daughter now, or Archon Louisoix would say to see Alphinaud. 

Raubahn supposed that if all was as they claimed, that the Empire really had turned its thoughts to coalition, not conquest, their forbears would be proud of their progeny for doing all in their power the felicitate it. 

Arriving at the Palace, seeing it draped in the Empire’s flags and adornments did nothing to ease Raubahn’s indigestion, although he kept his features calm and guarded as they moved through the palace accompanied by little more than the occasional Imperial salute from the soldiers stationed there.

A fear crept up Raubahn’s spine as he was taken to the Throne Room, starting to feel a lot more like a prisoner being escorted than an invited guest, however his fears were quickly allayed.

The Throne of Ala Mhigo stood unoccupied.

Several Resistance members, notable by their griffin wing styled hoods and uniforms, were chatting easily at its foot with a Monk of Rhalgr’s Fist and several village Elders. 2 Vira Ananta were listening to the conversation, and although saying little.

A large, blond Ala Mhigan lad in silver armor that Raubahn thought might have been Arenvald Lenitius was with them. His theory seemed to be confirmed when Yda and Alphinaud went quickly to his side to check in, leaving Rauhbahn unattended to survey the room as he saw fit.

Those injured by the Qaylana but no longer requiring hands on medicus assistance were loitering on travel cots around the room as it had quickly been turned into a make-shift infirmary and mess hall.

The Garlean troops were dispensing rations among these peoples, and several others who had come once word had gotten out that there was food to be had in the Palace if they came and asked for it. A queue had formed, although it was an orderly one, many in the line for food too brow beaten and down trodden to put up a fight.

They just wanted something to eat and didn’t much care from whose hand it came.

Raubahn’s dark eyes fell on what he assumed must be Livia van Junius.

She was unarmored, except for a pair of wrist mounted revolvers with blade attachments adorning her forearms. Otherwise she was clad in a pretty dress of black and red damask. Her long platinum blonde hair pulled up into a tight bun and her blue eyes calmly watching the proceedings.

Her eyes flicked to him, instantly noting his scrutiny. She was aware of her surroundings, a soldier to the last, despite her attire.

Her White Devil was positioned next to a wall, inert but not powered down. A flick of her wrist would cause it to spurt long columns of blue ceruleum flame if anyone decided to try a little violence.

Raubahn gave her a nod, acknowledging her presence and status as the Viceroy of Ala Mhigo but otherwise finding it impossible to force himself to speak to the woman. He was not sure he could hold his temper the way he had in Ishgard, staring into the face of the Emperor himself, without Nanamo’s calming presence.

For want of anything else to do Raubahn decided to join the queue to receive food.

Alphinaud watched as the Ala Mhigan man began to speak with those around him, who very quickly recognized the famed Gladiator and owner of the Colosseum in Ul’Dah. 

“A skillful bit of diplomacy, that.” Yda complimented Alphinaud. “Papalymo always tried to get me to be better at that sort of thing but I’ve no head for it.”

“It’s not born fruit yet. Compliment me if it actually works.” Alphinaud commented, turning to the Resistance members and lifting down his hood. They knew him by now, so he had no reason to continue concealing his identity within the Palace.

“It will. Raubahn is an Ala Mhigan, through and through. He’ll do what’s right for his homeland.” The dark-skinned man, Meffrid commented. His short hair worn in tight braids and pale eyes taking in the proceedings.

“His loyalty to Nanamo Ul’Namo is unparalleled. I pray I am wrong, but I do not think it will be quite so easy to convince him to leave her side. Although I do agree there is none other the peoples of Ala Mhigo would accept as their Prime Minister Elect.”

The notion of a voted Government and the people of Ala Mhigo electing their Leader had been Yda’s.

Six years in a jail cell had given her a lot of time to ponder an Independent form of Government for Ala Mhigo, although finding that it would need to remain part of the Empire in order to receive aid had never been part of her many plans.

Still, she was nothing if not adaptable and the Ananta, at least, had quickly thrown in with her idea of electing an Ala Mhigan Prime Minister and a Parliament of many, each overseeing a different part of Ala Mhigo in place of a Garlean Viceroy and Castra full of troops.

Livia van Junius had also been highly receptive to the notion, seeing quickly that the similarities between the Ala Mhigan Parliament and the Garlean Government would likely endear Gaius to the plan. She could probably even say that one was modeled off the other, further warming the man, who was proud of all things Garlean, to the concept.

They just needed to agree on who to champion as the first Prime Minister. Raubahn’s name had come up almost instantly and was consistently voiced each time a new set of peoples were spoken to of the subject. 

When reports of his moving within Ala Mhigo’s borders had surfaced Alphinaud had sought to move quickly, if a touch deceptively. 

There was a very prominent reason Raubahn’s name kept surfacing.

As Alphinaud, Arenvale and Yda listened every now and again the mans voice would reach them in a momentary lull of conversation and, unlike so many who had either entirely given into despair Raubahn yet had hope for his country.

“In many ways Ala Mhigo and Garlemald both stand at a crossroads, trying to decide what manner of nation to build for themselves, and for generations yet unborn.” Raubahn was speaking to a village elder as they progressed through the line for food. 

Conversation swirled and his voice was lost until he had collected a bowl of simple, nourishing stew and bread and moved to the side of a tattooed youth whose arm was still in bandages.

The youth was shaking his head, a scowl on his features and whatever he was saying was making his companions look nervously at the many Garlean troops in the room. 

It was very likely that the tattooed fellow was espousing violence against the occupiers.

“We have a choice, working with the Garleans or continued bloodshed. Surely there can be no choice. Others will look to our example, will they see a people who held fast to their principles, or one who slapped aside a hand offered in peace out of pride?”

“It’s no wonder people listen to him” Yda observed softly.

“General Aldynn is a veteran of countless campaigns, Yda. Ala Mhigo would do well to rely on his authority and a commander of his experience.” Alphinaud agreed. “If he wants to stay.”

It was not a given that he would and the room rippled with the unanswered question.

Alphinaud happened to catch Livia van Junius’ eye and she gave him a bored expression, twirling a little finger as if to imply he hurry it up. She did not like unanswered questions.

Alphinaud made a small, placating gesture and when he looked back to Raubahn he found the tall, dark skinned man striding towards him.

“Walk with me.” Raubahn requested and Alphinaud gave a nod, falling into step beside the Ala Mhigan. “I bear a share of the blame for Ilberd’s atrocities against the Scions of the Seventh Dawn that night in Ul’Dah. Had I openly supported the cause of Ala Mhigan liberation, he might not have felt driven to do what he did… Things could have been different, Eorzea without her Champion is a sight I never wished to see. But even after all that has happened my countrymen, with the Scions at their side, boast a chance of emerging from the Empires shadow and rise once more to greatness. I will return to Ul’dah, and take my place at the Sultana’s side as always.”

“Is this truly what you want, Raubahn?” Alphinaud questioned, unsurprised how quickly Raubahn had changed his tune about trusting the Empire.

No doubt the guilt Raubahn nursed over the Ul’Dah Uprising, and the Alphinaud’s words about bleeding out on the palace stones had given the man much to think on. As had the many questions of what he would do now, a son of Ala Mhigo, with the country poised to taste freedom for the first time since the Mad King took the throne.

“I’ll not deny there’s a part of me that wants to stay… renouncing my rank and joining you as a wandering sellsword. But I pledged my blade to Nanamo. And I will not betray that oath. Not now with a new set of Monetarists on the rise. Not when there is the chance another bloody swathe is carved through Ul’Dah at the hand of someone pushed too far by the Monetarists. I dare not take the risk that this one won’t limit themselves to the uninnocent.”

Raubahn’s words were piercingly accurate. Although the Monetarists and Brass Blades had transgressed upon the sinless, the Warrior of Light, in her vengeance, had not.

Her blade had claimed only the lives of those that raised hand to her. Any and all that put aside their weapons and let her pass remained alive, even those in the ranks of the now defunct Brass Blades and traitorous Crystal Braves.

Even over year on Raubahn still remembered all too vividly the sight of the city in flames, its streets running red with blood.

Alphinaud licked his lips nervously, knowing Raubahn believed the Warrior of Light to be dead although it was possible he was speculating that to be untrue by the way he paused his step, and looked plainly at Alphinaud;

“What of Her?”

“Her?” Alphinaud questioned, brushing some imaginary lint from his sleeve in feigned ignorance to who Raubahn could possibly be referring to.

“The Warrior of Light, Alphinaud. Does Dainty yet live?”

“It’s been a year, General Aldynn, do you really believe she would not have returned to Eorzea if she were able?”

Raubahn looked down, guilty once more, at Alphinaud’s words.

They were poignant in a way the Elezen perhaps not had meant. Raubahn suspected that Alphinaud was trying to imply that the Warrior of Light was truly dead, as so many speculated but for a member of the Syndicate of Ul’Dah it had a second meaning.

“She is still a fugitive upon our shores… as are you all.”

They called her Eorzea’s Protector, and yet hung a price tag on her head without a moment’s hesitation.

Raubahn was aware that a small portion of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn still lived and operated within Eorzea but with their headquarters at Vesper Bay laying in ruins to this day none were entirely sure where they now boasted home and hearth.

Most assumed the former Sharlayan, now known as Idylshire in the Dravania Forelands but with Ishgard’s power in Eorzea bolstered by a friendship with Garlemald none had the authority to go looking for the fugitive peoples. Perhaps they had disappeared behind Garlemald's vaunted walls as Alphinaud had.

Movement caught Alphinaud’s eye, a familiar set of pink curls crowned in gold and jewels, and a set of long grey locks beside it. He had expected this, alone in the knowledge that Ala Mhigo was to receive a Royal Visit. 

Alphianud gave a nod, then gestured to a set of stairs that would lead to the Royal Menagerie.

“Night is falling, perhaps you would care to see the Gyr Abanian stars before you return to Ul’Dah?”

“Aye, that I might.” Raubahn agreed, turning to surmount the staircase.

“I shall leave you to it then and rejoin the talks to instate a government modeled on Ishgard’s House of Commons, a ruling body of representatives elected by the people. Tis a fair decision and it is my job as Principus Senatus to see it to its close. Good evening, Flame General.” Alphinaud moved away at a quick walk until Raubahn was out of sight before he approached Nanamo Ul’Namo and Pipin Taurpin and bowed. “Your Grace, Livia van Junius and I were most gratified to receive your letter and we welcome you to Ala Mhigo.”

“When the Emperor of Garlemald spoke of his plans for Ala Mhigo I knew needed to see it with my own eyes. When he added that his Court boasted not only one but both Grandchildren of Archon Loiusoix my course was fixed. It is to the might of Garlemald that Ul’Dah will look to deal with these troubling new Monetarists.”

“I feel intensely sorry for those Monetarists.” Alphinaud observed and Nanamo’s eyes looked towards the stairs Raubahn had and, with a determined nod, headed in that direction.

“Forgotten something you wanted to say, Alphinaud iyi Leveilluer?” Raubahn commented, tone sardonic to voice the teenagers Garlean title, turning and starting suddenly to instead see a short, pink haired Lalafell striding towards him. “Your Grace!? I─ There was no word…”

“Raubahn Aldynn. You are hereby dismissed as General of the Immortal Flames, and relieved of your seat on the Syndicate.”

“But, Your Grace…!” the man fully stumbled back in shock and dropped to a knee.

“Stay here, in your homeland. Work with your brethren. Rebuild Ala Mhigo!”

“I swore an oath to you that day on the sands. I pledged my sword─”

“And it has served me well. But in Pipin you have forged a new sword, as sharp and deadly as the blade you once wielded. I am no longer a child and I will show you a Sultana who can wield every weapon at her disposal─including an Alliance with Garlemald! So follow your heart…please and smile for me, Raubahn. I would have this parting be a joyous one. You are home.”

Her voice choked, tears filling her eyes but desperately trying to hold it back knowing the moment she started so too would Raubahn. 

“Thank you, Your Grace. It has been an honor to serve you and Ul’dah.”


	21. Ala Mhigo - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaius changes his mind when it benefits him.

Much like Gaius zos Baelsar Livia van Junius had never much cared for Thrones, or politics, or the idea of a Royal Life.

Yet a Royal Life was now what her future held.

In her chest her heart skipped a little beat, looking out over the Ala Migahn landscape and the stars of Gyr Abania.

She had ascended to the Royal Menagerie not long after Nanamo and Raubahn had quit it, wanting time alone to order her thoughts. It was no small task for the woman, her mind was prone to chaos and, were she not careful, her joy might cause her to do something irresponsible.

As Gaius’ Empress she could no longer be as careless and open as she once had been and there was no long a shred of doubt that she would be able to claim that title.

Alphinaud’s plans for the hand-over of Ala Mhigo, running concurrent with Namao Ul’Namo’s decision to ally Ul’Dah and Garlemald, would be a very sweet victory for Livia.

All told it was an ambitious plan, but bold steps had to be taken to surmount the seemingly impossible mountain of peace between Ala Mhigo and Garlemald. 

Baby steps would get them nowhere. The voices of those crying out of vengeance would lead to nothing more than additional Eikon summonings. Fear and mistrust couldn’t be washed away in a day, but everyone was palpably aware that violence would only beget more violence.

Garlemald still held Ala Mhigo and it was a voluntary withdrawal. 

The Emperor could change his mind at any point, both before or after any hand over occurred. If things weren’t kept calm the might of the Imperial Army could sweep back in in a heartbeat. This was not a rebellion, it was a negotiation.

Livia had had to remind several people of that pointedly.

Raubahn, at least, understood the delicate balance they played.

Where others clamored for every last Garlean to be removed from Ala Mhigo and the metaphorical door locked behind them Raubahn made only a singular request.

Fordola rem Lupis and the Crania Lupi be disbanded and the Butcher exiled to Garlemald. Her mother, a retired Ala Mhigan dignitary held citizenship and lived in one of the lesser provinces.

Fordola would be taken and released to her Mothers custody, never to return to Ala Mhigo. 

She was too divisive to be allowed to remain in the land of her birth and, given she had made several critical mistakes that had led to the deaths of her men, Livia van Junius was well within her rights to strip the girl of her ranks.

Had Fordola only killed Ala Mhigans while in the service of the occupying Garleans then there would have been little to hold her accountable for, much as Alphinaud had found in Doma.

But Fordola’s critical error in pressing so heavily upon the Qaylana, murdering the brood mothers’ daughter in front of her, had proven to be the direct cause of Sri Lakshmi’s summoning and Garlmeald had a very strict; No Eikons, rule after all. 

By over playing her hand Fordola had violated that rule and Livia was only too pleased to punish anyone who dared defy her beloved Gaius.

Livia breathed in the night air, she had put off her forearm weaponry and left her White Devil downstairs. She wanted to feel what it would be like to be without her accoutrements of war.

She had not been without some kind of a weapon on her person in almost 15 years but as Empress she would be expected to do without them.

She knew what Gaius wanted in a wife, a woman whose priority was his children, to the exception of all else. Livia, with her tendency to be obsessive, could well fulfill that desire for her Emperor.

Even if it did mean relinquishing her title as Legatus. It was not a punishment to her, if she was honest with herself. Not when the prize was Gaius himself.

The rank she held now was actually higher than she had ever imagined herself promoted.

Not due to a lack of skill by any means, although her temper had prevented her promotion to “tol’, but primarily because she had never had any desire to be anywhere but beside her beloved Gaius.

When the Calamity came it was no warm feelings towards her fellow man, or belief that what Nael van Darnus intended to unleash was wrong that spurred her to join the others on the airship.

It was simply that if Gaius was to give his life in service of his country, facing down an Elder Primal in hopes of buying his men time to flee then she would be at his side.

There was no question.

The sound of heavy armored footfalls ascending the stairs to the Royal Menagerie caught Livia’s attention and, assuming it to be part of her XIVth come to deliver a message, she turned to look over her shoulder.

Her dress, fine damask silk and cut to flatter her figure, swayed lightly with her movements as the gentle breeze ruffled a little of her blonde hair.

To her surprise it was not the XIVth that joined her, but soldiers she did not recognize before the lead two stepped aside and bowed to reveal Gaius zos Baelsar, casually attired in simple Garlean robes in deference to the Ala Mhigan heat.

Her heart twitched, heart lodging in her throat to see him and fear crawling up her spine. Questions roiled in her mind but she remained calm on the outside.

What was he doing here? Why had he come? Had Namamo summoned him? Had he seen Alphinaud and realized that she cheated at her task?

Livia turned in place, bowing to her Emperor as, with a gesture, he dismissed his escort.

A new kingsguard – Livia realized at she straightened, seeing that these heavy armored soldiers were attired in a manner similar to those that had once pledged loyalty to the Galvus line.

Gaius had previously used his personal legion, the XIVth as his guards and escorts when moving around the Empire unarmored but, with that legion now belonging to Livia he had assumed the same protocols that former Emperor’s had.

These men and woman were elite, highly trained specialists whose lives were forfeit if it meant the protection of their Emperor. Their loyalty was to the name Baelsar above the Empire, above the City, above their own bloodlines and their crests and insignias displayed as much. 

“Congratulations, Livia. You have performed a task thought impossible. The little Lordling took great pains to assure me of the success of the plans you and he have concocted for this Realm and I have been invited to Ul’Dah to discuss a future partnership with Nanamo ul’Namo. Truly, you have exceeding my wildest expectations for you.”

“Your praise is sweet, My Lord.” Livia forced her words. “And what is to be my punishment for cheating?” 

She knew all too well Gaius’ pleasure at provoking his Tribuni for his own amusement. And she knew how repulsed the man was by the idea of marriage, not only to her but to anyone. 

It had always been a risk to bring Alphinaud to Ala Mhigo, she knew but a risk she had to take. 

She could never have achieved the “impossible” alone. Gaius knew she had no mind for it and his having arrived with her unawares, catching her in her deception would be just the excuse he needed to whisk her reward out from her fingers.

If only she had known she would have had a chance to hide the boy, make everything seem her doing alone.

A genuine frown turned Gaius’ head slightly, unsure to what she referred.

“How did you cheat, Livia?”

“I brought Alphinaud Leveilluer here, as you well know.”

He did not appear to know that she had also made use of Dainty’s skills as an Eikon Slayer and Livia was not planning on volunteering that information.

“You used every tool at your disposal to achieve your ends. I fail to perceive how that could be construed as cheating, Livia.” Gaius corrected, amused. “I told you to master your pride and prove to me all that you learned at my heels and you have risen to heights even I did not expect for you. Apparently, my clipping of your wings has not treated you too poorly.”

A small breath of surprise left Livia unbidden at Gaius’ candor. It was not an honor she usually received.

Livia bowed again, struggling to formulate words in her intense relief. She had always felt all of her emotions, even when it sometimes left her struggling for words.

“My Emperor is wise beyond my reckoning.” She finally managed, almost fully gasping.

“We’ll see about that.” Gaius commented, sardonic. He had never set much store in her constant stream of heavily biased flattery. “And I will deny you your reward no longer.”

Livia straightened, stiffening her spine and preparing for what came next. 

She was aware that she was about to play a very dangerous game.

Attempting to manipulate a manipulative man. No matter what Dainty had said, and how they had plotted together for this moment Livia still had to hold herself very tightly not to betray herself.

She had practiced every line in her bedroom mirror what seemed like a thousand times and her voiced sounded casual, even to herself as she spoke next;

“I shall return to Garlemald at once to research the most fitting bride for you from the daughters of the Noble Houses.”

Gaius dark eyebrows shot up.

Livia van Junius was not Noble.

By limiting her search to the ranks of the Garlean Elite she was eliminating herself in an instant.

It was startling to him that she would do so, but Gaius was no fool, and a smile curled his mouth and presuming her understood her game.

His hands moved behind his back and he clasped them together lightly.

“And how many months must I wait, the noose around my neck, before you decide none of them are fitting and you shall take their place instead?” He asked, unamused by her unsubtle attempts at deflection.

Livia gave a throaty laugh, turning her back to him so that he would not see how her hands shook. Instead looking out over the side of the Royal Menagerie at Ala Mhigo itself.

“You did not raise a fool, Gaius. I want to be your love, not your back up plan. I own it will be difficult to watch you marry another but at least then I will never suffer the torture of seeing you look at me with resentment! We all know you have no desire to be wed.”

She tossed her head, looking at him over one shoulder. 

Her words almost failing her, but she had practiced this, rehearsed every line until she could make the words come to her lips without the slightest of a tremor. “Besides we both know I am entirely too unstable, and you are entirely too incapable of leashing me to ever consider being your Empress.” 

“Oh, am I?” Gaius asked archly, arms folding across his chest.

Leashing her at his side in the XIVth had hardly been a strain, and his belief that that was in error had been his motivation to send her to Ala Mhigo after all.

Livia smirked as she turned to face him. His pride was stung, just as Dainty had promised to would be. 

When Gaius spoke of Livia’s nasty pride he seemed to have forgotten he possessed his own but Dainty, perceptive, canny little Dainty had not and, as she had pointed out to Livia, prideful men were ever apt to fall.

Livia’s blue eyes danced with wickedness. He was reacting exactly they had predicted he would. She had him where she wanted him so far.

“Perhaps when you were a younger man, had the mood taken you, you might have been able to Master me. But although you imparted upon me the same taste for the violent as you yourself possess, the notion to mantle me never did cross your mind.” Livia observed with a little gesture of feigned nonchalance.

“Are you implying I am old, Livia?” One of Gaius' pale green eyes twitched, one finger tapping an irritated tattoo against his vambraces, arms still folded against his broad chest.

“I am merely pointing out that as Tribunus Austiclavus and Legatus I have had the luxury of a wide swathe of enemies of the Empire to take my taste for the depraved out upon. As Empress I would have no other outlet than our bedroom and no, I do not mean to imply you are too old to put me on my knees the way I desire. I mean to state it outright.”

Gaius felt that insult in his gut.

If he had been a Black Wolf in more than just name he would have laid his ears back and bared his teeth at her, utterly incensed by her words.

He had never wanted to dominate, or reign over her sexually but he would be damned if he would be told he couldn't.

“I never spanked you as a child, Livia, but if you keep talking like that I might just bloody start.” Gaius growled at her, uncrossing his arms to clench his fists at his sides.

Livia laughed at him, slipping seamlessly into a battle stance.

“Try.” she dared.

Gaius gave her a long, meditative look, highly considering knocking her on her backside for several seconds before muttering;

“This is beneath us.”

Livia panicked for a second. 

She had not factored in him walking away and refusing to fight her but she knew him well enough to be able to goad him even without practicing her words beforehand.

She had learned to be taunting at his heel, after all.

“As my Emperor says.” She saluted sharply. “I will be certain to find you a soft, gentle bride so that you never feel the weight of your failing physical prowess.”

“I warned you!” Gaius erupted into rage in an instant, leaping for her. 

He could tolerate a lot of things but, hypocritically, being mocked about his age was not one of them.

Livia sidestepped deftly out of the way.

Having been sparring with Dainty in preparation for this she was well equipped to handle a sudden attack, her movements flowing easily into a swift round-house kick that came within only millimeters of catching Gaius directly in the side of the head.

He had ducked her blow but only just.

Livia danced on her toes, the slits in her dress revealing well toned legs, and revealing its true design. Rather than impeded her the pretty red and black damask dress had been tailored to perfectly allow a skilled pugilist complete freedom of movement.

If Livia had assumed Gaius would be at a disadvantage for age and being without his armor or gunblade she was mistaken. His years of experience made him a formidable opponent and Livia too had long relied on the assistance of her White Devil being beside her in combat.

She was incredibly grateful for having sparred with Dainty as she dropped a shoulder and strafed, Gaius attempting to deflect the shoulder check and quickly discovering it was a feint.

Livia adjusted her course abruptly, catching Gaius in the midsection hard with a knee that drove half the air out his lungs.

His reaction times were equal of hers, however, catching her leg and brute force lifting her off her feet.

Gaius slammed Livia into the ground, not pulling the blow to spare her. She had not pulled her punches and strikes, so neither did her.

Unphased Livia kicked, sweeping his legs out from underneath him and, surging to her knees as quickly as she could, attempting to tackle him to the ground to pin him.

Gaius was the quicker, turning so that when her body contacted his he landed on his back with her atop him and was easily able to flip them over.

Livia, anticipating this, had drawn up her knees however and was about to use the strength in her legs to fling him off before sharply remembering Dainty's words.

“Remember, the point isn't to win, it’s to get your body on his. This isn’t combat. Its foreplay.”

She instead made only enough of an effort to push him off her as would be believable as a genuine attempt before throwing a palm strike at his face that required him to grab her wrist and force her onto her stomach.

Gaius put a knee in her back, thinking her defeated and Livia wrenched herself violently to elbow him hard in the head, forcing him to pin her down with the entirety of his weight, and one arm twisted behind her back.

Gaius had to admit, he was panting more than he would have liked, and was a little more aroused than he was truly comfortable with. 

Between her talk of wanting to be put on her knees and mastered and putting up a hell of a fight it had been a while since a woman had got his blood pumping quite like that.

Even if that woman was Livia.

“Well?” Livia purred, slightly breathless herself and pushing her hips back so that the curve of her backside pressed against him more firmly. “I do believe I was promised a spanking.”

“Damn, right you were.” Gaius snarled, ire up from both the fight and being told he was old. He released her arm but only to rear back and smack her across the taunt, round curve of her backside smartly.

“Oh!” The noise she made was simultaneously carnal and confounded.

Livia hadn't actually expected him to do it.

Gaius did it again, the thwack of his hand meeting her damask covered flesh slightly echoing around the Royal Menagerie, matched by the gasped moan torn from Livia's throat.

She drew her arms beneath her, nails clawing at the dirt and tucking her chin to whimper:

“Please.... again!”

Gaius' hand fell a third time and again she gave an ecstatic cry.

Gaius couldn't resist her.

His taste had always run towards the violent, it was true but finding someone whose taste ran in a complimentary way was rare. He had always known Livia enjoyed brutality. Her cruelty in War, both on the battlefield and off made that vastly apparent but it had never occurred to him that she would enjoy it inflicted upon herself also.

Livia was fully trembling with anticipation, her hips raised ever so slightly, waiting for the next strike desperately.

Instead she heard Gaius dark voice behind her, guttural and angry, as if the words were being dragged from him unwillingly.

“Part your legs.”

She did so without hesitation, a sudden bolt of realization running through her as she felt him maneuver her dress and panties out of the way and position himself between her thighs.

Not even the chill of the night painted breeze hitting her bared nether regions could cool her ardor.

She had wanted this, wanted him for so long and it was so utterly perfect.

Some women dreamed of romance, Livia dreamed of violence.

Do not move, do not flinch, do not do anything to break whatever spell he is under – Livia cautioned herself, Gaius hands finding her hips and his weight settling onto her and....

“Ah hah!”

All of a sudden he was within her, she was well wet from being spanked and felt his cock separate, stretch and penetrate her.

He answered with a heavy grunt, snapping his hips and driving himself fully home inside her in one movement and drawing a cry from Livia.

“Oh… Gaius!”

Her breaths left her with little keens of pleasure at their heights as Gaius fucked her, giving her no time to get used to the feel of him on her and in her before gripping her backside with both hands and fully railing into her.

One hand lifted, and fell with a sharp “thwak!”

Livia’s mouth gaped open and violet blue eyes so wide they almost bugged out of her head.

Pain and pleasure in equal parts cascaded through her, the skin on her bottom, pale from years of wearing armor, turning bright red with each strike of Gaius palm against it.

If he kept doing that she was going to fully scream.  
She couldn’t help it.  
She had never been able to restrain herself, neither in joy nor in disappointment.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!”

Her ecstasy filled cries were loud enough to disturb a flock of roosting birds, and Gaius could feel her start to slide dangerously towards climax. Every muscle in her body was tensing, including those around his cock exquisitely.

His hand fell again.

Her skin tingled and burned in the best way, fingers clawing against the hard, cold tile floor as orgasm flashed through her, stealing her breath and leaving her moaning.

Gaius, possessed of a desire to see Livia’s face and, as ever, tightly in control of himself, withdrew from her with a not-quite-as-sharp-as-usual;

“Roll over.”

Mind still hazy with lust and passion Livia did so, limbs shaking and clumsy.

Livia was willing but, she had to admit, slightly unsure of what he wanted as Gaius drew her small clothes down her legs, rather than just shoving them to the side again. His hands were gentle as they stroked up her legs, a small smile hovering over his mouth in a way Livia was not used to.

Her blue eyes caught his green ones as he settled between her thighs.

Her confusion pleased Gaius.

Everything about her at that moment pleased him.

Her willingness, her obedience, the way her golden hair had half fallen out of its tight bun to spill around her shoulders.

He took a fistful of it, giving a solid yank as he entered her again and drawing a sharp gasp of arousal and pain from Livia.

“Why didn’t you tell me you like this?” Gaius purred darkly in her ear, large body arching over hers and retaining his grip on her hair.

He flexed his hips, moving slowly and savouring the way her pretty mouth pouted open in pleasure, not letting her collect her breath or her obliterated wits.

“I…hmmm… I did!” Livia insisted softly, dragging her eyes open to look up at him by sheer force of will alone. She gave a squirm, hitching a leg over his hip and arching, eager for every little ounce of sensation she could get. “You… shamed me…. And…oh!.... told me not to bother you….. with my nonsense.”

Gaius paused inside her to grip her chin with one hand, letting them both calm a little and admitting;

“That sounds like me.” Unashamedly.

He kissed her captive mouth.

Held immobile she had no choice but to accept his kisses, not that she would have dreamed of refusing them anyway.

Livia knew him Gaius well enough not to bother searching for another release. She’d had hers, and he would want his and she was only too pleased to provide such, clenching her inner muscles on his length, and rolling her hips on him as best she could.

She clawed her nails down his back through the robes he still wore and held onto his hips, concentrating on feeling him move inside her so that she could anticipate he needs best.

He did so like it when people were useful to him, Livia knew well. That was how to make Gaius not resent her. To be useful to him, personally, above being capable of providing him an heir.

“Damn you, Livia.” Gaius growled thickly against her mouth and instantly captured it in another kiss.

He had sworn he would never do this.

He would not love, he didn’t care what stupid bloody Au Ra savages said about his soul. It was an inconvenient emotion that had nothing to do with him.

But as Livia rocked her hips in time with his, arranging herself to his pleasure and benefit all those walls Gaius had spent so carefully cultivating started to develop spiderweb cracks and fissures.

He would not love her. He would not. It was just sex, carnal and physically and nothing more. They were still more dressed than not and as her blue eyes held his, her blonde hair still curled in his fist and that mouth of hers pouting open Gaius knew he was lying to himself.

Of course he bloody loved her. 

Why else had he allowed her to remain at his side all these years even though her obsession with him was inconvenient. Why else had had allowed her to dwell with him in the Summer Palace once he ascended the Throne.

Why else had he always forgiven her her rages against his Favorite, Cid nan Garlond?

With a sharp grunt Gaius lost control of himself, cuming in an explosion of shivers and stars and earning him an ecstatic gasp of delight from Livia.

She had expected him to pull out, if she was honest.  
To be allowed to receive his seed even before marriage rings were on their fingers meant that he had already accepted it as a fore gone conclusion that they would be wed, and she bare his children. With any luck the first of them would not keep them waiting overlong. 

Having lived by his side Livia was far from unaware that Gaius had had a brace of mistresses in his life, his reputation for the violent had not come from nowhere but none of them had ever been given the opportunity to fall pregnant.

Unlike herself.

She drew her hands up his back, then smoothed a little of his dark hair back into place until Gaius clearly felt the moment was growing too intimate. He withdrew from her, climbing off her and rising as if nothing more than a spot of light sparring between two soldiers had just occurred.

His walls may have cracks in them, but he was still a cold, reserved man and always would be.

Livia would have expected no less and shifted her hips a little before affixing her clothes and similarly rising to her feet. She gave herself a good brushing down, thankful that the Royal Menagerie had been swept daily by the Palace Staff.

Gaius looked her over as she straightened her hair, not bothering to repin it but loosening it entirely to spill around her shoulders.

He took her chin in one hand, turning her head this way and that to ascertain he had left no marks upon her, and pleased to see that he had not.

Other than the no doubt red, hand shaped prints on her ass, conveniently hidden by her dress.

“Name yourself my wife.” He ordered, body lingering very close to hers.

Livia’s blue eyes raised to his, a smirk hovering over her mouth;

“I will be your Empress.” Livia declared, looking into those endless eyes of her beloved. “I will love you, and your children all of my days.”


	22. A Happily Married Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What this story needed was some more Cid and Dainty smut.

Cid felt a small pair of hands slide over his eyes, and gave a smile.

His little wife had returned for being primped and pampered at her favorite day spa early, it seemed. He had not been anticipating her back before 5.

He had been listening to the State Radio, which had recently announced Nero Xe Scaeva’s return to Garlemald, alongside Rhitahtyn van Arvina and the newly reformed VIth.

According to reports these Generals were to be highly praised, being able to boast having put down an Ascian, secured Azys Lla as a potential outpost and taken command of the renegade warship the Gaviton between them.

Only a tiny handful of people knew that the Nero xe Scaeva who was currently strutting around the Capital in that palpably familiar crimson armor was an actor. 

The real Nero was currently still unconscious and safely tucked into a bed at the Garlond Estates under his wife’s doting and close attention.

“Hi, Dainty.” Cid greeted, voice rich with affection.

“Wait 5 minutes, then meet me in the rose maze, I have a surprise for you.” Dainty requested, and Cid nodded eagerly, remaining in place and not turning to look at her as she disappeared back out of the screen door.

He waited the correct length of time, although quietly vibrating in anticipation of what her “surprise” might be. He had a suspicion, and a hope. 

She had only just returned from the salon, and there was a particular shade of colour for her hair that he was dying to see. 

His quick steps bore him swift across through the winding paths of the Estate to the area known as the rose maze.

It had been planted originally 3 generations back from Cid, although it was entirely Dainty's work that it now flourished and bore a Doman style pagoda at the center. The flowers were in full bloom as would be expected of late spring and the pleasant scent drifted lazily across the entire Estate when the wind blew just right.

Dainty was waiting for him at the edge of the maze. She had memorized the route to the Pagoda where Cid had not.

His smile grew to see her, the sunlight glinting off her pale scales and platinum blonde curls.

She had had her natural colour restored, knowing full well how desperately Cid longed to see it. 

She was right, it was a similar shade to Livia van Junius. Platinum but with a golden glow that was not just from the sunlight.

It complimented her yukata nicely, the white and blue casual kimono and geta making her look like a Doman child's doll, if that doll had pale scales that picked up the sun to shimmer and a spiked tail that swished with happy anticipation.

Cid loved it when her tail moved with her emotions. It was rare, not because she did not feel but because only when she was at her most content and relaxed did the scaled, spiked appendage move of its volition.

Generally, it was only momentum when she walked, or ran making it bounce, or her conscious choice to move it out of the way before she sat which caused her tail to move. 

“So? Do you like it?” Dainty questioned, tipping her head up to look at him as he moved to her side and stroked a hand through the silky, hot iron styled curls gently. Her curls were natural, but she still had them heat seat once a week to keep them glossy and manageable.

“I love it.” Cid admitted.

He had always been partial to blondes, likely from growing up in Garlemald where platinum blonde was a common shade of hair color. A niggling little thought occurred to Cid about how Dainty, an Au Ra, possessed a shade of hair so commonly associated with pure blooded Garleans but he shelved it for another time as Dainty reached for his hand and tucked her own into it.

“I've something to tell you, and something to show you.” She admitted, drawing him into step beside her, leading him through the sea of roses. Her steps were careful and deliberate thanks to the doman Geta she wore.

“More than the blonde hair?”

“Yes.” Dainty nodded, her eyes moving across the many blooms before offering. “Cid, in the course of doing battle with Ultima Weapon I was stripped of my Blessing of Light. I did so willingly. There was no other way to bring Nero back alive but I cannot say if it will be weeks, or months or even years before Hydaelyn is strong enough to lend me her light one more.”

Cid frowned, not entirely sure what her words meant. He knew she had the Blessing of Light, and the Echo but he was not sure what each of those things entailed in the myriad of powers and strengths she displayed.

Dainty led him to the Pagoda, unlocking it with her palm print and drawing him inside.

It was styled similarly within, the bedding and decorations could have been taken from within the Doman Palace itself so skillfully had that lavish building been replicated.

“I am still stronger than most, and still possessed of my Echo but nothing like I once was. For the time being, as a pure blooded Garlean, you are stronger than I am.” Dainty explained, her tone slightly anxious.

She took his wrist in her grip when he dd not speak and squeezed it as hard as she could. It hurt a little but not the way it should have. She was not holding back, yet she could barely injure him when she should have been able to break every bone in his arm without blinking.

Cid’s blue eyes went very wide, suddenly realizing what she was saying, her eyes holding his very intently.

As a Warrior forged she knew how to use her strength far more expertly than he, an Engineer, but in sheer brute force strength he was, temporarily, her superior.

“I will be so careful with you, Dainty, I promise.” Cid vowed, cupping her face gently and stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. “Trust me?”

He would never, ever harm his little wife and had always taken care not to limit his strength with her. Despite the fact there was no need for him to do so her diminutive size had always made him apprehensive, especially in intimate circumstances.

“Of course you will. I never doubted that for a moment.” A small, very wicked little smile crossed those full, perfect lips of hers. “I brought you here entirely because of how much I do trust you, Cid.”

Dainty picked up a length of peach coloured silk, Thavnairian woven and as soft as it was strong. There were 3 in total. One for her wrists and two for her ankles.

With a sweet little smile, she offered him the first, purple and orange eyes holding his shamelessly.

A still a little awestruck Cid took it, trustingly accepting anything Dainty handed to him, even if his mind hadn’t quite processed what was being given to him yet.

There were times he had gotten more than a little needy and dominant with her, especially after a disagreement and Dainty owned to liking that. Even the slightest degree of possessiveness out of him and she would giggle and grind into him and call herself “his”.

But this was something else. 

It was one thing to be a bit demanding with a woman who could shove him off with ease it was another thing entirely to tie up a woman who could not actively free herself if he did not desire to release her.

But what better way to prove she trusted him?

And that he could be trusted.

“Dainty....” Cid murmured, eyes taking in yukata clad Au’Ra as she twirled her curls up into a tight bun on the very top of her head quickly, so that they would not get in the way of whatever he desired to do to her.

“Yes?” She asked gently, presenting her wrists to be bound with an impish little smile hovering over her full lips.

Cid gently wrapped the silk around one slender, scaled limb, then the other, giving a little tug to tighten the fabric on her flesh. Years of making rope rigging while building airships had given him a repertoire of knots to choose from to bind her.

“Tighter.” Dainty purred. She could slip out of that if she wanted to and that wasn’t the point.

Cid wasn’t entirely sure on that request, it was so hard to know how much strength to use with her, having never had to worry about it before. But, as requested, he gave the peach coloured silk a much firmer yank and when he wove the two ends to bind her wrists together it was a solid knot that she would not be able to undo without assistance.

His large hand curled around the bonds, pulling her forwards a step and Dainty gave a soft little moan.

“Do you need to be gagged or will you be good?” Cid inquired darkly, grinning and warming up to this whole idea.

“You tell me.” Dainty offered sweetly, eyes burning with ill repressed passion as they held his.

Her words reminded Cid firmly that he was the one in control here.

His hands swept up, catching her chin and tipping her head back as if to kiss her, but denying her at the last to instead pick her up, lifting her out of the geta she wore on her feet.

Cid carried Dainty over to the bed, noting as he set a knee upon it for balance to lay her down gently that the mattress was uncommonly soft. A mattress that soft would not be comfortable for sleeping but was perfect for cushioning someone with a tail who might soon have heavy weight on top of her.

There were two metal rings at the headboard, and the slats were the perfect width for Dainty’s hands to rest between them when he fed the ends of the silk into the metal rings and tied her hands above her head.

The bed had even been positioned away from the wall a little so that there was room for her hands without them being uncomfortably jammed up against something solid.

Dainty looked up at Cid, his eyes momentarily unfocused and his bottom lip caught between his teeth just a tiny bit in concentration as he bound her in place.

She ached to kiss that mouth, his lips unusually full and soft for a man, especially after having been denied a kiss earlier. But she couldn’t, no way to push herself up to catch his lips with her arms tied to the slatted headboard.

Finished with his task Cid’s eyes traveled down the slender, scaled arms to Dainty’s face.

The trust in her eyes clogged his throat and stole his breath.

She was utterly unafraid of being completely vulnerable to him. Not because he couldn’t hurt her, he could with her Blessing blocked to her, but because she knew he never would. 

Cid was intoxicated by the look on her face, leaning in to kiss her deeply.

She could do nothing but accept the kisses enjoyably for several long moments.

His hands swept over her body, breaking the kiss to stroke over her fabric covered ribs, hips and thighs before encountering soft, bare flesh once more.

His fingers whispered over her skin, teasing just a whisker her inner thighs below the hem of the yukata, caressing her calf as he moved her legs apart gently and caressing the scales at her ankles until she gave a little ticklish squirm.

Dainty bit her lip, watching him work without the slightest hint of resistance as the silk was drawn around her left ankle and wound around the conveniently located bedpost.  
Cid tied the knots with more confidence this time, earning a soft little exclamation from her when he pulled the knot tight.

It sounded suspiciously aroused, like the moan she had given when he pulled her forwards a step by the wrists.

Cid gave her an amused, cheeky smile.

This was unarguably a gift for him, but she was far from unhappy to give it. All the better, in Cid’s opinion. The best gifts were always the ones given enthusiastically.

As he restrained her right leg it occurred to Cid he should have undressed her first. Her yukata and geta had obviously been chosen for their ease of removal alongside how pretty she looked in the Far Eastern finery. 

But, if he knew his little wife as much as he liked to think he did Cid would wager she had compensated for any lack of forethought on his part. She had clearly put a lot of planning into this.

An investigation of the bedside table proved Cid correct. The top draw contained a variety of useful things, body oils, lubricant, a silken gag and matched blindfold and a pair of heavy weight golden scissors.

For cutting off her clothes or cutting her restraints should he desire to release her promptly or anything else that might occur to him. 

“You are a good wife and I do not deserve you.” Cid murmured, moving beside her to kiss her sweetly pouted mouth again before she could disagree with him about deserving her.

The pleasantly heavy scent of the roses danced around them as they kissed.

Cid found he missed the sensation of her arms around him, and her hands running through his hair but there was something deeply erotic about having her completely at his mercy.

“Don’t move.” Cid commanded, brandishing the scissors with a smile. Dainty’s eyes lingered on them, then returned to his.

The purple depths fully danced with dark fire, eager to find out just what he was planning to do with the blade.

Ever so carefully Cid introduced the blade of the scissors to the fabric of her yukata, the tie at her waist that kept it closed fell first, soliciting a little breath of anticipation from Dainty. 

The metal of the scissors was cold against her skin as Cid cut slowly from her collar, up one sleeve, to split it. Dainty watched his eyes, a little smile hovering over her mouth again.

Cid repeated the task on the other side before gently coaxing the scissors between the valley of her breasts to split her bra in half in two neat snips. The straps at her shoulders were similarly dispatched.

“I have no idea why this is so hot.” Cid murmured, setting the scissors aside so that he could use both hands to coax the fabric from her body. As she was bound he had to lift her slightly to pull the now ruined yukata and bra from beneath her, leaving her clad in only her panties.

“Kiss me?” Dainty requested, holding her mouth up to be kissed.

“Nope.” Cid teased with a grin, admiring her mostly nude body as she pouted adorably. The soft swell of her pale breasts, crowned in dusky pink nipples that were ever so slightly hardened, betrayed her arousal.

There was suggestion of goose bumps along her flesh and that same fearless, trusting look in her eyes that Cid had so loved earlier.

Kisses would have to wait, he still needed to remove her panties, reaching for the scissors again. He slipped a finger up her scales, hooking the elastic of the lacy, frilly excuses for fabric she wore with one finger and pulling the elastic taut to severe it with a quick snip.

The other side was treated similarly before Cid deliberately put the scissors back in the draw and slowly, languidly, rendered her entirely naked.

Dainty bit her lip, every nerve ending in her skin was begging to be touched.

“Please kiss me?” she whimpered, giving a little tug of the restraints at her wrists. She wanted to reach for him.

“No.” Cid told her again, voice very deep. - Oh but isn’t that half fun.

A curl of devious insinuated itself into his veins as a smile curled his mouth.

Denying her, knowing full well she couldn’t tackle him to the bed the way she normally would, was enjoyable in a way he couldn't explain and had not expected.

Cid loved Dainty’s enthusiasm, and how much she wanted him, but it was undeniably an aphrodisiac to have complete and utter control over her.

He leaned over her, hands lingering on the silk at her wrists and mouth tauntingly poised above hers. Dainty arched her neck, trying to capture his mouth but Cid moved just out of range the second she attempted it.

She gave him a smoldering, frustrated expression that drew another irreverent smile from Cid.

He drew his large hands down her arms slowly, letting his fingers travel over the skin and scales confidently.

Blushes blossomed on her shoulders and cheeks and her breasts as his hands caressed her collar bones. Cid's mouth soon followed his hands, dragging his lips over her skin, tongue lingering against her pulse at her neck, lingering on her collarbones before traveling lower

Her warmth and her scent surrounded him as his mouth adored her skin.

“You are perfect” Cid murmured into the valley between her breasts, kissing below each one as his hands skimmed the sides of the pert, flushed flesh erotically.

Dainty gave a little shudder, she could feel herself growing wet and ached for him in her core.

Cid's mouth lingered at her breasts, glancing close to the pert, rosy nipples several times and drawing a little gasp from her each time but never claiming the sensitive flesh, tickling and tormenting her.

He loved Dainty’s breasts and so often he did not get to play with them nearly as long as he would have liked thanks to Dainty’s tendency to rush.

Cid never minded, it was flattering to be wanted as badly as Dainty wanted him but since she was there, oh so willingly restrained for his pleasure, indulging himself seemed a rather good idea to Cid at that particular moment.

Dainty gave a little shudder as his mouth claimed one pink nipple, sucking and teasing lazily with his tongue. 

Instinctively she tried to move her hands to his hair and was thwarted by the silk at her wrists.

Cid heard the “clink” of the metal rings that tethered the silk to the headboard and grinned against her skin.

He drew his head up to give her a smirk. He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

Cid leaned in to give her a teasing little kiss.

He was certain that being made love to gently, intimately, was not what Dainty had had in mind when the idea to let him put her in restraints had entered that devious little mind of hers.

But since they were here he was absolutely going to savor it in a way he rarely got too. 

He was just thinking he wished he had some body oil when it occurred to Cid that there was some in the bedside table. He grinned against her skin, kissing each breast once before leaning to retrieve it. 

The scent, vanilla, was one of his favorites of the assortment that Dainty liked to wear, and it provoked another grin from Cid when he saw the bottle.

Of course she would stock my favorite... I don't deserve her.- Cid mused to himself, pouring a measure of the oil onto his palms and warming it between his hands.

He adopted a comfortable position on his knees beside his wife, a soft smile hovering over his mouth. 

Dainty was in love with the way Cid was looking at her.  
It was almost spiritual.

The reverence in his blue eyes stole her breathe as the warmth of his hands moved down her arms to her shoulders, and then to her ribs.

Cid didn't believe in her Gods, the Twelve, as she called them, but Cid would gladly worship at the temple of whoever was responsible for Dainty. Whoever had carved her, mind, body and soul, from a single piece of perfect aether.

His hands swept over her ribs, dipping in for her waist and smoothing over the scales at her hips.

“hmmm” Dainty gave a ticklish little squirm.

Cid had wanted to worship her like this for ages, but he never could deny her when she mewled “hurry” and “faster” in his ear.

Divinity, if it existed, was in Dainty's dark magenta and orange eyes and the unadulterated trust and love telegraphed from their depths.

It was in her skin and the way her pulse jumped beneath his fingertips when they ran fleetingly over her erogenous zones. It was in the way she held her breath, not just when they made love but anytime his eyes caught and held hers.

Slowly Cid stroked the warmed oil over her skin, working fluidly from her waist down her legs. He couldn't help himself, pressing kisses to her hips and stomach, moving between her splayed legs and running his hands down the front of her thighs and back up to her hips.

He repeated that motion several times, a smirk on his mouth, each stroke getting just a little closer to the sensitive, ticklish skin of her inner thighs and provoking a little quickened breath each time.

Dainty arched her back, trying to push her core closer to the teasing fingers that fluttered teasingly up her inner thighs.

Cid couldn't resist her little murmurs of desire, kissing her mouth as his hands slid up her hips, flat, taut stomach and ribs. She gave a ticklish squirm, accepting the kisses gleefully.

His large hands glanced the underside of her breasts before traveling up the length of her arms to the encounter the silk that bound her wrists. Cid gave it a playful little tug, reminding himself she really was bound there. 

She wasn't just being submissive the way she was when he came over dominant with her. She genuinely could not free herself if she wanted to.

Again it took his breath away. 

So many people had wanted to control her in her life, to own her, possess her and she gave that to him without hesitation. He only hoped he deserved it half as much as she thought he did.

He undressed himself slowly as he continued to worship her skin with kisses and fleeting touches. Teasing little strokes, caressing her intimately but never giving her the penetration she wanted and liked best.

Cid exchanged the body oil for the lubricant, which he spread over his length carefully, getting himself good and hard. Not because he thought she wasn't well wet enough to take him but because he had ever been paranoid about their size difference.

The blessing of light, that she was currently without, granted her more than just unholy strength. It gave her durability, and the ability to heal quickly.

It was such a small, easy step to take to put his mind at ease that his beloved little wife would be well.

He moved over her carefully and, to Dainty, achingly slowly. Normally about now she would have her legs around his hips and would be arching into him, begging him to hurry but the restraints she had willingly been put in prevented that.

Instead she could do little but wait, breath baited, for him to arrange himself between her legs.

“Oh Gods, Cid.” Dainty moaned as he pressed himself inside her. 

The way he took her was so reverent and the way he looked at her, those Garlean blue eyes holding her dark magenta and candle light orange limbal ringed eyes as he slid deeply into her body, joining their bodies intimately. 

“You feel so good, love.” Cid breathed, fighting back against the urge to simply grip her hips with both hands and fuck her hard. That was how she liked it normally and he knew that was how she wanted it right now but that was not his game.

Not this time

He wanted to worship her in way he had never been allowed to before and, knowing Dainty as he did, in a way she had never allowed anyone else to before. 

He began to move slowly within her, drawing his cock almost all the way out of her before pressing back inside her. His pace was unhurried, arms braced on either side of her ribs, keeping the majority of his weight off her, well aware he could not crush her to the bed the way he normally would.

“Hmmm, Cid... faster.” Dainty moaned, moving her hips restlessly, desperately seeking the pleasure he was denying her.

“Oh no, little wife.” Cid teased, kissing her mouth, lingering in the sensations of utterly having her.

Cid slipped a hand between their bodies to circle her clit slowly.

“Oh?” Dainty's struggled against the sensation for half a second, trying to twitch away from his fingers but utterly unable to thanks to the restraints and Cid's weight on top of her.

She'd always been easy to please, generally the stimulation provided by penetration was enough to get her to climax. In fact, normally clitoral simulation and penetration was too much sensation at once to enjoy any of it but Cid's touches were almost feather light.

The subdued rhythm he had established inside her was almost teasing with its unhurried tenderness.

She could feel every inch of him moving in and out of her, rather than the usual intensely pleasurable blur of sensation and lightning from her core. 

It made her want more. 

“Cid! Please!” Dainty writhed, trying to draw her legs up and tethered by the silk at her ankles.

“No, my little love.” Cid purred, moving slowly within her, enjoying her and giving her clit gently, teasing little circular strokes. 

He caught her mouth in a kiss as their bodies rocked together.

He knew damn well she liked to be fucked. Hard and hot and heavy.

She insisted she needed it like that to cum. That she needed it just a little rough.

Cid was only too happy to use the opportunity to prove her wrong.

“It’s building, isn't it?” Cid murmured darkly. “I can feel you clenching on me.”

There was something delightfully perverse about it all. Forcing her to cum on his terms. Denying her unless it was what he desired to give her. Restrained as she was she could do nothing but accept being controlled and pleasured.

He kissed the two filigree scale clusters on her forehead that arched over her eyebrows. Then the ones on each cheek.

Dainty gasped and gave a little keen followed by a distinct shudder.

His lips found the sensitive scales at her throat, murmuring; “I love you, little wife.” against them.

“Ah!”

The unhurried sensations were strange, like suddenly getting warm again after being cold for a long time. Not intense, yet still pleasurable.

She wasn't entirely sure it would get her to her peak, but she wasn't entirely sure it wouldn't either. Her hips were trying to follow that circle design his fingertips were tracing on her clit all of their own accord.

Her inner muscles starting the spasm with each invasion and withdrawal of his cock deep inside her. Had her legs not been bound they would have started twitching.

She was close, even if it didn't think she was. Cid watched her struggle against the silk restraints, murmuring “oh... oh... Gods” and his name softly.

“You're so close.” Cid leaned over Dainty, purring his words against her hair.

He slid his hands under her until he had a pert butt cheek in each hand and he could adjust her hips to just that angle that they both loved so much.

The sensation was too sweet, he had to fully growl, struggling to hold back his own mounting release. His hips pushed his cock deep inside of her, balls tightening.

Cid thrust into her deeper, and just a little harder.

Dainty gasped and shuddered and was done, her body going into orgasm unbidden. Cid was only too glad to join her, catching her mouth in a kiss as his cock twitched insider her, feeling her walls clamping all along his length as she spasmed.

Quick, fleeting kisses in between panted breaths were exchanged sweetly as they basked in the sensations.

It did not take Cid long at all to desire being able to wrap Dainty up and fully spoon her, the way he always did after sex. The snuggly, cuddly afterglow had ever been his absolute favorite part.

The nearby scissors made short work of her restraints, Cid not even bothering to try and undo the knots that had bound her wrists with his endorphin clumsy fingers.

Dainty giggled softly, reaching sweetly for her husband, only too happy to be all wrapped up in his muscular arms and have her newly blonde hair repeatedly kissed.

“I must admit, that wasn’t quite what I was expecting.” Dainty murmured softly, feeling Cid’s lips against her shoulder. “But I’ve certainly no complaints!”

“I should hope not.” Cid teased, caressing her skin lazily.

He was entirely proud of that effort.

“Happy anniversary, my one.” Dainty sighed and Cid felt something cold lance down his spine as his brain rapidly back-tracked from the current date and realized that she was correct.

On this day, one year ago, they had been married.   
And he had completely forgotten.


	23. The Tipping Point Between Action and Consequence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F'lahminn rather suspects shes gone and developed feelings.

He was falling through black. 

Just falling without ever hitting the bottom through an empty, black void. Sometimes he tumbled head over feet, other times he would manage to right himself and just continue to plummet, belly first, through nothingness.

He tried crying out once or twice, but no answer replied. Oddly enough he couldn’t seem to recall who he was calling for, only a vague sense of dread that he had hurt them in some way, and they were no longer there to hear him.

It was his armor being removed that roused Nero out of his dreams of falling, although barely.

Someone insisting she knew how to remove the armor from having had to wear Livia’s briefly was all he knew before he went under again.

The next time he came around was as he was being tucked into bed. 

A different someone was insisting she would not commit the social faux pas of putting someone ranked Xe in anything other than the best bedroom in the house.

The third time involved someone calling him a daft git and attempting to force a potion down his throat for him.

That was about as much consciousness as the severely weakened, post possession Nero could tolerate and black rushed in again swiftly. 

What little of the potion he had managed to swallow must have taken effect however as he did not instantly return to nightmares. Instead sleeping mostly peacefully and when he finally fully surfaced he was alone.

Or at least he thought he was until tender fingers brushed gently against his cheekbones.

“Nero?” F’lahminn called softly, seeing movement behind his eyelids momentarily.

Her gentle voice almost lured him out of his half-asleep state but not quite enough to make him willing to open his eyes and face reality.

Not yet.

F’lahminn sighed, disappointed as the rapid eye movement in Nero ceased.

Mortification was not generally an emotion someone as shameless as Nero was familiar with, but the fact remained that he felt it, all the way to the bottom of his gut.

 _They should have left me for dead_ – Nero knew it absolutely.

His memory was not compromised for his unconsciousness. Now that awareness had returned so too did the knowledge of exactly what had happened. 

He had allowed himself to fall prey to an Ascian. 

Gaius would never trust him again.

“If I must relinquish some of my control over the Empire it can only be to someone whose control I can trust as well as I trust my own.”

Those words, spoken on the eve of Nero’s promotion was enough to convince him that Gaius would strip him of his titles and rank for such a travesty. 

The Imperial Army would never respect someone who had been used as a puppet ever again.

Garlean arrogance and pride being what it was possession was viewed as a failing on the part of the victim in every sense. Nero would be seen as weak, and a failure and morally inept to his core from that day forth without any empathy, nor ability to speak in his own defense granted to him.

Everything Nero had dreamed of and worked for, promotion, validation, acknowledgement, the Emperor’s trust, the command of the Armies and praise… all gone.

And for what?

There had been no reason to push himself the way he had.

He was already Praefectus Totaleum Immortum. His reward for his patience had already been granted him and what could he have possible hoped to achieve with the completed Ultima Weapon anyway?

Gaius no longer cared for invasions. The Emperor had said it himself time and time again. Garlemald would fight wars on a diplomatic front now.

Nero had been so caught up in his perfect opportunity to outdo Garlond once and for all that he had not stopped to think. Not even for an ilm.

Despair manifest alongside the mortification. 

How could he have been so stupid?

Every insult, ever sneer and snide comment that had ever been levelled at him swum in his mind, reminding him of his worthlessness.

Nero’s fingers twitched suddenly recalling the way the Ascian wearing his form has struck F’lahminn and almost betrayed his wakeful state by gritting his teeth before he caught himself.

F’lahminn noticed instantly the tiny movements instantly, reaching out gently to stroke fingertips against his knuckles.

“Nero?”

The blond Garlean continued to feign unconsciousness. 

Nero’s pride, the only thing he had left to him as far as he was concerned, would never allow him to bare the humiliation of demotion. 

He would rather exile himself than live in a world where he had had so much and had only himself to blame for losing it. 

There was only one thing for it. Defection.

Defection and a new identity.

F’lahminn would have to leave his side eventually. To eat or use the bathroom or some such. 

Divorce was illegal in Garlemald but with him vanished she could easily move in with the Garlond's and pretend herself a widow. No doubt she would be glad to disavow having ever known him.

F’lahminn lay back down at his side, although on top of the blankets that covered him to observe him quietly, one arm gently extended across his chest. Nero wished he didn’t enjoy the soft warmth at his side that he did not deserve quite so much.

Where his mind not wholly occupied by recriminations he might even have admitted he would miss F’lahminn when he left.

The door to the room opened and F’lahminn looked up from the pillows as Dainty entered the room on silent feet, carrying a tray.

“I brought you some dinner.” Dainty smiled gently as F’lahminn moved to sit up, stretching out the kinks in her tail a little. The Au Ra’s magenta and orange eyes moved to the blond man tucked into the lavish bed. “Any change?”

“He has twitched a little. I do not think it will be long now before he wakes.” F’lahminn said, also looking at Nero although with an affection that Dainty’s expression lacked.

“Then I am glad I brought a second bowl. Be careful when you reach for them, there is a bag of fire shards under each bowl to keep it warm.” Dainty set the tray on the bedside table.

“Thank you, Dainty.” F’lahminn nodded gently, then saw the Au Ra intended to leave and called her back with a soft, “How did it go?”

“Oh, perfectly. If there was ever a role Jenomis cen Lexantale was born to play it was that of Nero xe Scaeva.” Dainty commented with a laugh and only Nero’s extreme willpower and control of himself prevented him reacting to that confusing statement. “He swaggered out of the Gaviton so convincingly I doubt even Rhitahtyn realized it were not Nero in that armor.” 

F’lahminn gave a little giggle;

“Thank you, Dainty. For everything.”

“Thank me not! T’were Cid and Alisaie’s stroke of genius to have Nero “arrive” with the VIth and Lady Yotsuyu. Overseeing his plans to end the Ascians’ machinations once and for all. Rhitahtyn van Arvina is on his way to round up the last of the conspirators hiding among the Populares.”

“Just so long as Nero wakes before Gaius returns.” F’lahminn fretted.

“Oh, Cid came up with a plan for that too. A “honeymoon” in Doma. That is what Cid and I had, and Nero has ever wanted what Cid’s got, so it makes a perfect excuse for Nero’s absence should it come to that.” Dainty smirked and gave an airy giggle. “Cid always does have the best ideas after we’ve been ever so energetic in the bedroom.”

“I’ll forgive that over-sharing this time because you have all managed it so brilliantly that I am in awe.”

Nero felt the bed jostle as F’lahminn rose, walking quickly to Dainty and drawing her into a hug. “Thank you for bringing….”

“It were….”

“… him back to me. I know what your temper is like mid-battle, Dainty.” F’lahminn continued as if the Au Ra had not tried to interrupt. “It must have been an extreme act of willpower on your part not to simply park your axe in his gut and call it done. I asked you to return him to me alive and you did and I thank you for your restraint.”

Dainty silently accepted the kiss on her forehead from the taller Miqo’te, declining to tell her it was more Hydaelyn’s urging than F’lahminn’s that had provoked the uncharacteristic lack of violence on Dainty’s part.

Sometimes it was simply easier to let people believe what they wanted, Dainty had found. 

“He has a part yet to play, Lahminn.”

“Oh, Lahminn! That’s what Minfilia used to call me.”

“I know.” Dainty giggled, before giving F’lahminn a squeeze and extricating herself from the other woman’s embrace. “Give a yell if you need anything else. Alisaie’s tuckered out on the couch but Cid and I will be up a while yet. It has only just gone 8 of night.”

From the Au Ra’s words Nero was able to calculate he had been languishing in unconsciousness for a full day and several hours on top of that.

“I will.” F’lahminn promised and watched the door close behind Dainty before returning to the bed.

Despite the pleasant savory scent of the stew in the bowls her stomach was too twisted with worry for Nero to care much for eating.

Nero’s mind was awash with questions as he felt her weight return to the bed and she curled up by his side again.

It was impossible to know the exact details but from their conversation Nero could infer that Dainty, Cid and Alisaie had arranged it so that the Army believed him responsible for the death of the Ascian at Azys Lla.

No doubt he had used the Ultima Weapon to kill the aethereal monstrosity, thereby explaining how the Weapon was lost since one could not exactly say it had been destroyed by Dainty’s hand. 

Presumably when Gaius returned from Ala Mhigo the story he would be told by Cid would paint Nero as the mastermind behind a plot to expose and end an Ascian’s Eikonic machinations.

Nero was well aware he was not the Warrior of Lights' favorite person nor had he ever done anything that would motivate Cid nan Garlond to lie to Gaius's face for him.

At the end of the day Cid regarded Gaius as a Father figure, to be respected.

Nero was also very well aware that, if the situation was reversed, he would be the first-person shouting Cid nan Garlond's mistakes and transgressions from the rooftops.

Nero turned the information he had learned over in his agile mind, trying to figure out what Cid and Dainty Garlond could possibly stand to gain for shielding him from the consequences of his idiotic actions.

Surely there had to be something in it for them.

Dainty would have needed a way to disavow her involvement in ending the Ascian and Ultima Weapon, Nero personally knew this from experience. Gaius and the Tribuni already wore the titles of Eikon Slayers when the credit really went to her.

But there would have been other ways to obscure her presence in Azys Lla without making Nero out to be an Ascian Slayer to be lauded for his actions. 

Her Ishgardian allies could have no doubt worn the badge easier than Nero would, or the laurel wreathes could have been laid at the door of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

Nor would disavowing Dainty’s involvement be enough motivation for them to conceal that  
Nero had been possessed, instead painting it so that he was never not in control of himself.

Never not executing a strategy of his own devising.

Never not anything other than Praefectus Totaleum Immortum, utilizing that rank and power the fullest extent, fulfilling his Emperor’s decrees to end the Ascian threat to the Star upon which they resided.

The egotistical Nero wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about this. 

Relief obviously but also annoyed to owe Cid bloody Garlond and his stupid bloody wife.

He was also still utterly furious at himself for putting himself in this mess. 

Nero thought he also might feel…gratitude. 

Which was not an emotion he was particularly acquainted with and he rather thought it felt similar to indigestion. 

He had been shielded from the ramifications of this error and how much it would cost him.

His titles and rank would remain intact. 

None need ever know how badly he had screwed himself, except Cid bloody Garlond and his stupid bloody wife.

That provoked a frown, he couldn’t help it any longer and instantly felt gentle thumbs at his brow, trying to stroke away the anxiety as the ever observant F’lahminn was up on her knees the second he twitched.

“Shhhhhh, all is well, you are safe.” She soothed gently, assuming him to be only just coming out of unconsciousness and possibly believing himself to still be in Azys Lla.

“Why, F’lahminn, you almost sound like you care.” Nero managed with a twist on his mouth, finally opening his eyes to look at her.

“Oh Thank the Twelve!” F’lhaminn burst out pressing her face into his chest in relief.

“I take it you missed me. I understand, I would have missed me too.” He teased and earned himself a small smile from F’lahminn as she raised her head.

He found it hard to look at F'lahminn's tender expression and worried features, the faintest hint of a bruise on her lip but forced himself to all the same.

He was responsible for this and it ought not be shoved beneath jokes and arrogance so that he did not need feel the emotions as he normally would. Not this time.

Nero reached out to stroke the back of his hand against her mouth gently. 

“I am sorry.”

“I know it was not you.”

“No.....” Nero looked away, deeply ashamed of himself and, aware that he had no one to blame but himself. “...but it was me that put you at risk. An Ascian beat you because I let it get near to you.”

“A mistake you are not the first to make and one I certain a prideful man such as yourself will never make again.” F'lahminn reassured him. 

“Never.” Nero vowed.

F’lahminn smiled, fussing over him and stroking her hands through his hair and kissing his face several times.

Nero let her lavish affection on him before she snuggled into his side again, pressing her face into his neck and giving a relieved sigh.

Nero scowled at the top of her head.

“I do not like to snuggle.”

“Tis not for your benefit.” F’lahminn retorted, squirming closer.

She had been dancing on tenterhooks all day, forgoing dress rehearsals with the Imperial Theatre Company to tend to him in his unconscious state. She had been worried absolutely sick and she was going to have a nice, reassuring cuddle and he could just put up with it for a few moments.

He gave a soft snort of amusement and let her have her indulgences.

It was a pleasant enough sensation, Nero had to own as he managed to put an arm around her gently. He felt a vibration against his arm where it rested against her back and, with a queer twist of his heart, realized she was silently purring.

A rather delicious scent made itself known to Nero as the anxiety of believing himself a pariah in Garlean society started to fade away. This prompted a loud gurgle from his very empty stomach and F’lahminn gave a giggle.

She was conscious they needed to get proper food and water into him sooner rather than later and moved away from him so that he was not pinned down by her weight on top of the blankets.

“Can you sit up?” she asked softly.

“Maybe.” Nero commented and slowly managed to co-ordinate his limbs into pulling himself into a sitting position.

F'lahminn beamed at him, ears wiggling in delight. 

She reached for a bowl of soup and bread twisted with cheese that had been keeping warm on a bag of fire shards at the bedside table, carefully maneuvering it into his lap so that he could eat.

Nero accepted her words and the food in silence, waiting as F’lahminn settled herself with her own stew and bread.

He dipped the spoon he was handed into the bowl, selecting a piece of what appeared to be skillfully cooked meat and a bit of broth 

Relief at his state had reminded her she had not eaten any lunch and it was well past dinner time. He was not the only one in need of a meal.

It suddenly occurred to Nero that it was not him that the Scions had protected so diligently. 

It was her. 

“They must love you very much to protect me in such a manner.” Nero commented, betraying that he had over-heard her conversation with Dainty. 

F’lahminn had asked for her husband to be brought back to her, whole and intact and because they loved her, they had.

F’lahminn’s head jerked up, giving him a long, level look with her pink eyes that Nero mostly ignored, continuing to eat. She was slightly annoyed to have been left to languish in anxiety while he took his time revealing his wakefulness to her but decided to let it go.

The man was a tactician and soldier, she knew this before she married him. He had no doubt been gathering all the information he could before deciding his next move.

“Yes, they do.” F'lahminn agreed placidly, then gently corrected. “While I am sure wanting to conceal her involvement, and my requests to bring you back to me alive were Dainty's motivation, Cid and Alisaie seemed far more concerned with yourself if I am honest.”

“Ha, you're mistaken there.” Nero snorted, almost upsetting the mouthful of soup he had just taken.

“I do not believe so. They are your friends.”

“I am not friends with Cid nan Garlond.”

“He does not appear to be aware of that.”

“I don't want any friends.”

“Tis not optional.”

Nero looked sharply at F'lahminn, her calm features remained intact, refusing to be baited into the argument that others would have fallen into quickly. Alisaie would no doubt be mouthing off about his “gratitude” sarcastically where she there.

Cid would no doubt be sighing and shaking his head.

F'lahminn just managed him, and Nero still wasn't entirely sure how she made him feel her disappointment in him so palpably with just a look. 

Nero fell into silence as he ate.

He would have recognized it as Dainty's cooking even if she had not been the one to carry the bowls up.

Dainty and F’lahminn seemed to make similar foods but owning to a significantly larger budget Dainty tended to make more lavish versions. Bread twisted with cheese as opposed to plain. The cuts of meat in the stew were a finer quality than he was used to. 

F’lahminn reached for the sideboard and slipped on a pair of glasses, earning her an odd look from Nero.

“You wear glasses?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Since always.” F'lahminn laughed. “They got left behind in Ishgard owning to my rather hurried decampment over your shoulder. The Count de Fortemps has only just managed to discretely send Dainty my things.”

Nero made an interested noise, the glasses suited her, and he had ever had a thing for women in glasses, then commented;

“I like them.” 

“Thank you.” F’lahminn smiled, then offered softly; “Who is M-in-Ah?” 

The name sounded funny in her mouth, she had to phonetical sound out the strange sounding name.

Nero stilled, blue eyes flicking away from her face as they narrowed slightly. F’lahminn’s pink eyes watched him calmly, head tipped a little to the side.

Nero’s eyes moved over the furniture of the extremely expensively appointed Master Bedroom of the Garlond Estates. 

It was so lavish that Nero had mistaken it for the Summer Palace at first, then realized it must have one belonged to Cid’s parents. Why neither Cid nor Dainty used the room, which had clearly been designed as an opulent retreat for a man and wife to enjoy each other’s company, Nero knew not.

Although he suspected, much like himself, Cid probably found the room simply too grand and ostentatious, preferring simpler accommodations that one could fully relax in without being afraid of ripping curtains that cost a week’s wages.

Now that Nero thought of it he believed he recalled Dainty insisting he be placed there. As Praefectus social etiquette dictated that Nero was entitled to the best room in the house.

“Where did you hear that name?” Nero asked after an extended period of silence, tossing up in his mind whether or not to be fully honest with her.

His voice seemed very dark to F’lahminn but he had made a face of what looked like confusion and acceptance like he had when she had voiced her desire for children as her motivation to marry him.

“You muttered it a couple times in your sleep. Is she someone of importance?” 

She was trying to keep the jealousy from her tone but was rapidly discovering she had started to develop strong, and possibly ill-advised feelings of affection for Nero.

“I should hope so. F’l-Ah-Minn.” Nero replied with half a smirk, stressing the syllables in her name to make it obvious what he had been muttering was a nickname of his own devising for her.

“Oh!” F’lahminn’s pink eyes lit up, her tail fluffing a little in what he had learned to read as delight. “I did not realize you were calling for me. I was at your side the entire time, I promise.”

It tugged at her heart strings a little he had no one else to call out for in his unlucid, delusional state but her, someone who was more a stranger than not, despite the marriage certificate that bound them together.

“So I saw.” Nero observed, noncommittal but F’lahminn saw the way his blue eyes glinted the way they did in lieu of actual smiles instantly. 

“What?”

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” Nero couldn’t help himself. He was deeply uncomfortable with himself, with her presence at his side and the way moment was meticulously close to becoming emotional.

Trading sass and snark was a subconscious way to regain his equilibrium and he felt that she really should have realized that “M-in-a” was herself without needing to remark upon it.

F’lahminn’s ears lay flat, an unhappy expression of disappointment crossing her features as her lips tugged down at the sides.

“Yes….well…. at least I am not so dumb as to get myself possessed by an Ascian!” F’lahminn managed tartly. She had not Alisaie’s quick wit. There was a reason they called that Elezen teenager the Queen of Sass, after all but F’lahminn could manage an insult or two when needed even if she preferred not to.

Nero looked at her sourly and F’lahminn returned his look defiantly. “I should prefer to stick to the promises we made to treat each other with dignity, kindness and respect but I’ve claws enough to be just as unkind as you if you are so determined to have it that way.”

Her unhappy expression tugged at his heartstrings a little, provoking a sigh of annoyance, mostly at himself for being moved by her displeasure when he felt he ought to have laughed at it;

“Keeping our promises would be preferable.” He turned his face away to grumble. “I knew you were too soft to be a soldiers’ wife.”

F’lahminn took his insults to heart, rather than letting them roll off her the way he did. They were not harmless “smack talk” to her and Nero was aware he needed to remember that more sharply. 

He was not so devoted to being argumentative that he did not instantly realize that tolerating one another as husband and wife would go very poorly if they were constantly insulting one another.

F’lahmin relaxed a little at that, taking his now empty bowl and watching with concern as he ran a hand tiredly over his eyes. Being possessed really had done a number on him and what little energy he had managed to gather from the potions was fading fast as his body took to digesting the meal.

“Lay down. Sleep.” F’lahminn urged gently, willing to forget the momentary disagreement out of concern for his well-being. They could discuss it more once he was well again. 

He clearly had a very dark sense of humor, seeing him trading barbs with Alisaie was all the proof F’lahminn would ever need of that and perhaps there was a compromise to be reached. It would be nice to have something in common with her husband other than sex. 

To be able to laugh together would be agreeable. 

Nero was fading entirely too fast to argue with her, settling himself under the blankets again. F’lahminn stroked his hair a little.

Her touch was pleasant, Nero thought hazily. He had never understood the way Cid and Dainty seemed to constantly want to have some body part pressed against one another, what was the point if you weren’t having sex?

Begrudgingly he was starting to see the appeal. Not constantly, like them. That was be entirely too much for Nero who had been happily single and alone most of his life.

But as F’lahminn’s fingers moved through his blond hair gently he began fathom that occasional non-sexual touches might be a perk of marriage, rather than something to be endured.

He drifted off to that thought.

F’lahminn watched him a little until she was certain he was deeply asleep before moving off the bed to take a shower and prepare for sleep herself as the evening was growing late. She was grateful for the reprieve from Nero’s company in order to organize her thoughts a little.

The blatant, if subconscious, efforts to scare her off by insulting her intelligence when they were at risk of making an emotional connection was not lost of F’lahminn. 

Nor was the fact that he felt warmly enough towards her to assign her a nickname in his mind.

She had not anticipated either of them developing an attachment to the other when she had offered to marry him. She would fully admit that she had been picturing seeing him very rarely and thought that polite respect for one another would be perfectly sufficient for their goals.

Then again, she had not expected him to be as entirely generous and skillful in the bedroom either. That had been a pleasant surprise and, she suspected, was contributing to her current emotional confusion.

It was hard not to feel something for a man who touched her body so lovingly and devoted his time and energy to her pleasure. He didn’t have to do that, biology being what it was she did not need to experience release to fall pregnant, yet he always made sure she “got hers” before he did.

The notion of being something more to Nero than just an arranged wife kept playing in F’lahminn’s mind. 

Perhaps they might even manage to like each other.

Perhaps they might even manage to love each other.


	24. A Rotted Heart and a Traitors Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yotsuyu gets her wish

Ever since Gaius zos Baelsar had ascended to the Throne of the Imperial Empire the small political party known as the Populares had had little to occupy themselves with.

Once a small group of only 35 men who diligently did their best to champion the rights of the common man amidst the political nepotism and cronyism of the Galvus Royal Court. 

Their ranks had now swelled to 216 and 211 of those men and woman were completely unaware that 6 times 6 times 6 was the exact number of bodies needed to evoke an ancient ritual that would summon a Primal.

None of the 216 men and woman were surprised, however, when they all received summons by Rhitahtyn van Arvina to present themselves in the town square for consideration to join the Vith Legion.

Rhitahtyn had long had a reputation for inclusionary policies, such as actively seeking out soldiers who originated of Aan like himself. It made perfect sense that the new promoted Legatus, who was so loyal to Gaius zos Baelsar - the common man’s Emperor, would seek out the Populares.

No one questioned it for a moment. Not even Asahi sas Brutus, the highest-ranking member of the Populares and, without a doubt, the one with the most influence within the group.

Maxima, a tall brunette Garlean man was just turning to remark to one of his fellows on their good luck when the din of the entire VIth flooding into the square drowned out any words that might have left his lips.

“On your knees! Every last one of you!” Rhitahtyn bellowed, voice amplified by the helmet he wore.

He was flanked by 2 Reapers personally and 2 more were being ridden with his troops. The quartet of sleek, black Magitek Reapers had been a gift from Cid nan Garlond following Rhitahtyn’s promotion and he had been flattered by the consideration.

Cid had been glad to get them out of the workshop.

“What is going on?!” Maxima qoe Princeps yelped, taking a kick to the back of his knees that hobbled him instantly.

“On your knees! Hands behind your head!”

“We are loyal soldiers!” Maxima protested, hearing his fellow Populares offering similar protests and also going unheeded by the VIth Legion. It was not long before, panicked but utterly over powered, the entire political group were surrounded, on their knees on the cold stones, hands behind their head so they could not draw weapons or fight back.

Maxima’s dark eyes moved across the square. The Populares had already been standing in formation, as was to be expected for a military unit about to receive inspection from a Legatus of Rhitahtyn’s rank. The inspection had clearly taken a turn for the worse as they were now forced into positions of submission, arranged in two neat groups of 108 with a path between them that Rhitahtyn walked the length of.

His head moved from side to side, eyes roving behind his helmet.

“Asahi sas Brutus. Stand up.” Rhitahtyn van Arvina ordered.

And went ignored.

Maxima sought out the face of the Tribunus Auticlavus among those nearby and saw the slender Doman man, teeth bared but terrified, looking at the ground and refusing to identify himself. 

Despite being fully capable of identifying Asahi Maxima did not speak up. To betray his Field Commander would be dishonorable and not go well for him, despite it being a superior officer calling for the man to stand at attention.

“If that is how you wish to play it, Traitor, so be it.” Rhitahtyn observed, amused and made a little gesture.

One of the VIth handed down a beautiful, blue eyed Doman woman from one of the Reapers. She was clad in simple Eorzean fashions but smoked a Doman pipe, her red lips pouting prettily as she exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

“Lady Yotsuyu, if you would be so kind as to point out the conspirators.” 

She moved gracefully down the pathway seemingly choosing four soldiers at random.

“Him, him, her and him.” Before she drew level with Asahi and her lips curled into a vicious smile and the condescension fully dripped from her tone. “And of course, let us not forget pathetic little Asahi here.”

“Take the Traitors.” Rhitahtyn gave a gesture and instantly a group of the VIth leapt to obey. “The rest of you are free to leave. Immediately. Any who linger will be assumed to be allies of the Traitors.”

Still in shock, and very confused Maxima rose to his feet shakily, still not quite believing his ears. He knew what happened to Traitors to Gaius zos Baelsar, however.

They all knew how little the Emperor tolerated threats against his person. They all knew just how deep the Frumentari had its eyes and ears into the goings on of Garlemald. They had assumed themselves inconsequential and none were eager to find out how wrong they were.

Asashi sas Brutus found himself hauled to his feet before a smug looking Yotsuyu.

“Whats the matter, brother dearest?” She purred, inhaling on her pipe and exhaling into his face. “Surprised to see me and not Tsukuyomi?”

Asahi sas Brutus looked at Rhitahtyn, an ingratiating smile transforming his features, dark eyes appearing wide, and vulnerable;

“I know not what lies my sister has sold you but I am, as I have ever been, a loyal soldier of the Empire. I have ..oooof!” his toadying words were cut off in an instant as Rhitahtyn’s armored fist was driven into Asahi’s gut, knocking the air out of the Doman mans’ lungs and dropped him to the ground.

“Did you really think that would work you sniveling little worm.” Yotsuyu taunted. “My mind remains my own. They have seen the mirror you gave me. Your Ascian master is already dead.”

The faintest flicker of disbelief in Asahi’s eyes betrayed him and earned him cruel laughter from Yotsuyu as she promptly kicked him hard in the gut that Rhitahtyn had just punched. “Pitiful. You couldn't even successfully bring to bear a plot hand fed to you by Master Manipulators, while I can bring about your downfall from oceans away.” 

Ashahi groaned painfully, scrabbling against the cold metal of the city square.

Rhitahtyn and the VIth did nothing to circumvent her rage. Traitors deserved no such consideration and they had grown to admire the resilient, whip smart woman during her stay with them in Eorzea. 

There were also several of Regula van Hydrus’ men, those who did not subscribe to Rhitahtyn’s Esoteric Restrictivism that had rejoined the VIth for a chance to get to know the Doman beauty residing at Castra Meridianium with the newly reinstated Legion.

“Admit it Asahi, admit that I am better than you. I’ve always been better than you. That’s why you tried to drag me down to your level so desperately, isn’t it? Marry me to a drunk and I return a widow. Sell me to a pleasure house and I return the Viceroy of Doma. Sacrifice me to a Primal and I return as your downfall. Even after everything you have subjected me to I can still run laps around you with my eyes closed and I shall enjoy watching you burn.”

Asahi spat at Yotsuyu’s feet. A sour look crossed her face before she lifted one foot, placed it on her brother’s head and shoved his face into his own spittle.

She inhaled on her pipe and exhaled as if this were all the most normal thing in the world.

“Take them away.” Rhitahtyn ordered, watching impassive as the VIth hauled Asahi to his feet and dragged him and his conspirators away before turning his massive bulk to direct Yotsuyu’s attention behind them. “And what shall we do with these two, Lady Yotsuyu?”

She turned to find that her parents had been escorted from their comfortable home and into the square in time to see Asahi’s arrest by a squad of sequtors and hoplocamps.

She had named them as incidental conspirators for the fact they had witnessed Asahi gift her the Mirror and done nothing to prevent it. The fact that they likely had no idea it contained the Essence of a Primal was information that Yotsuyu had kept to herself.

“We are citizens, we have rights.” Her father insisted, shoulders thrown back and chest puffed out as if he still held some shred of power here.

Her mother was clutching her hands to her chest.

“We didn’t do anything!”

A resounding slap from one of the soldiers ended that protest as swiftly as it was uttered.

“Backed the wrong kid is what you did.”

Several of Rhitahtyn’s VIth liked Yotsuyu very much, her sass and snark and bite mimicking their own and they had quickly grown to respect her resilience and mind.

Yotsuyu looked at the elderly couple with a sneer;

“Denounce Asahi and grovel at my feet and I might find it in my rotted heart to speak in your defense.”

She knew full well they wouldn’t and couldn’t.

Asahi was their perfect boy. Their golden child. She may as well have asked them to make the sun rise in the west.

“You. You did this!” Mrs Naeuri sneered at her, cheek stinging from where she had been slapped as Yotsuyu exhaled at her.

“That doesn’t sound like groveling. Come, come, Mother, you know how to beg on your knees. Make it good and I’ll even see that Asahi is mercifully dead before he goes into the Traitors fire. Surely you cannot accuse someone merciful as me of not loving her family.”

The Naeuri’s looked at her in hatred and Yotsuyu shrugged; 

“Not a single word of regrets? Even as you stand to lose everything? Pathetic. Exile them to Doma. I have no doubt the general populace would just love to know that a single kind word from these two fine specimens of parents could have ended my cruelty and purges in an instant.”

“You….!” Yotsuyu’s Father lunged for her, but he never had the chance to finish his thought as the rapport of a gun echoed around the square.

His body thudded into the cold metal, dead before he even hit the ground. The soldier who had fired in defense of Yotsuyu holstered the weapon impassively while the older woman fell to her knees with a wretched scream of denial.

“NOooooooo!!!!” 

Her Mothers’ pained screams provoked a look of pleasure from Yostsuyu, completely unmoved by her Fathers’ death.

A nasty little smile curled her red lips.

“Oh dear, dear, dear. What a terrible turn of events! Thankfully we know exactly how to comfort grieving widows in the Naeuri clan, don’t we Mother? A pleasure house! I even know of one desperate enough for a dried-up sack of filth like yourself.”

“You… you cannot be serious….” The Naeuri widow shuddered, half in denial as her hands clutched her dead husbands bloodied shirtfront. 

“As serious as you were when I was sold to such an establishment!” Yotusuyu trilled, delightedly. “Learn to bend with the wind while you’ve still some use left to you. Perhaps if you endure the torment as I did it might teach you a little compassion!”

“You’re a monster!”

“Of course, I am! A monster of your making!” Yotusuyu agreed, unreservedly and utterly crowing. “The Kami will judge not the Monster who never asked to be born over they who knowingly created her.”

Rhitahtyn gave a nod and the woman was hauled away from her husbands’ corpse, sobbing brokenly.

The massive Roegadyn man removed his helmet to look down at the Doman woman. A little scowl puckered her brow, discovering herself to be out of tobacco.

“Your mind is inventive in its cruelty, Lady Yotsuyu.” He complimented, and it was a genuine one.

She reminded him of Gaius with her delight in the depraved. He had been impressed by her during her stay at Castrum Meridanium with the VIth. 

Rhitahtyn was also aware that it was Yotsuyu’s words of being protected by Garlemald when her own family betrayed her that had convinced many of Regula van Hydrus’ men to rejoin the VIth under Rhitahtyn when he himself had been unable to motivate the fellows to do so.

Yotsuyu gave a little bow of gratitude before observing;

“If only such a thing could be monetized. I don’t dare hope to inherit enough to live on from that wretched lot.”

“Tis not a glamorous line of work but the Frumentari could use your sort of cruelty and your sort of resilience. As Legatus of the VIth I can no longer properly command the Frumentari in Foreign Territories. The man I’ve elected to take my place is strong, loyal and canny but he lacks a certain wicked edge, a…..a….” Rhitahtyn struggled for the correct and least offensive turn of phrase.

“Rotten heart?” Yostsuyu suggested, emptying her pipe into the street carelessly. She knew what she was and did not shy from it.

“Rotted things make the best fertilizer. The best fertilizer grows the most fruit baring plants. It takes someone swathed in black to find those swathed in black who would seek to bring the Empire low. You will retain your goe title and I give you leave to use my name, as Naeuri and Brutus will be known as the names of traitors.”

Yotsuyu considered this for several long moments before giving a little nod;

“Yotsuyu goe Arvina. A monster who hunt monsters. That almost sounds pleasant.”

“We are in agreement, and now, if you will follow me, we have a Traitor or five to burn and I believe you requested to light the tinder personally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was pure wish fulfillment, nothing more nothing less (wayward daughter plays)


	25. The King and Queen of Poor Manners Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manners are for people who aren't Nero Scaeva or Alisaie Leveilluer.

The presence of Alphinaud Leveilluer at the Garlond Estates betrayed instantly that Livia van Junius had been successful in Ala Mhigo and, when Gaius and she returned from the Capital of Ala Mhigo it would be as husband and wife.

Likely they were already enroute although Alphinaud could not say for sure. 

He had used the excuse of someone needing to escort Fordola rem Lupus to Garlemald to return home as he was missing his sister and friends, leaving Yda to stay in Ala Mhigo with Arenvald and assist the nation in its fledgling state as best she could.

Her thoughts on visiting the homeland of the peoples who had imprisoned her and enslaved her people had been less gregarious than Alphinaud’s and with good reason.

Tartaru was sitting in the kitchen with Cid, patiently waiting for Dainty to finish making breakfast with assistance from Alisaie and Alphinaud.

F’lahminn hovered nervously around Nero in case he took a tumble on his way downstairs, although she admitted there was likely very little she could do to catch the tall, muscular Garlean if his knees gave out on him.

Nero insisted he was doing much better after a good night’s sleep and refused to remain in bed an instant longer. F’lahminn had no way of preventing him from rising and so had simply accepted this, providing him with fresh clothing to wear.

He was not yet ready to deal with the undeniable pangs of affection he was having for her, or the fact that his brain kept traitorously referring to her as “his Minn-a.”

Dainty noticed them first as Alphinaud was chopping strawberries carefully nearby. 

It had been agreed that everyone living at the Garlond Estates would have to start pulling their weight when it came to cooking and cleaning while Dainty was without her Blessing.

They all knew damn well the Au Ra would continue trying to garden and cook and clean and do home repairs as if she still had almost limitless reserves of energy. Since the prideful Dainty would never admit she needed help while she was without her Blessing Cid and the Twins had decided to take the choice out of her hands.

Subtle questions had been placed to Tartaru regarding the procurement of a House Keeper or two that were familiar with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn so that Dainty would have help but still be free to relax and be Dainty rather than Lady Garlond in the privacy of her home.

Cid did not like the idea of Staff or Servants but when it came to Dainty there was little he would not do to keep her safe and healthy and, most importantly, happy.

“Good morning!” Dainty greeted the married couple with a smile. “Coffee is on the side counter.”

Nero made a noise of delight, fully leaping down the last two steps and crossing to the carafe gleefully, abandoning F’lahminn instantly as she was unable to keep up with his long-legged strides.

Dainty made coffee in the “Gridanian manner”. Nero had no idea what that entailed only that hers was some of the best he had ever enjoyed, and it always smelled strongly of cinnamon.

“Good grief, you spoiled brats know how to cook?” Nero observed with a smirk, leaning against the side board, cup in hand and watching as Alisaie flipped the waffle maker diligently.

“Mixing water into the dirt and calling it a pie isn’t cooking, Nero, I don’t care how poor you were.” Alisaie shot back without a lick of offense. “It is nice to see you up and well you ill-mannered cake witted pissant.”

“Ah, Lady Leveilluer’s impeccable manners are as robust as ever, truly all must be right with the world.” Nero gave a grandiose shrug.

Alphinaud rolled his eyes and went to greet an old friend;

“Ignore them, F’lahminn. The King of Snark and the Queen of Sass have 2 days lost time of trading barbs to make up for.” 

“So, I see.” F’lahminn smiled, holding out her arms to embrace the Elezen teenager fondly. “I think you’ve grown a little, Alphinaud.”

“Perhaps I am merely carrying myself a little straighter.” The boy offered in reply, knowing full well he would not have another growth spurt until his twentieth summer.

“Perhaps.” F’lahminn conceded.

“Are you well?” Alphinaud pressed, dark blue eyes roving to Nero momentarily. “When Alisaie said you had returned to us and married Nero…!”

“I am just fine....” F’lahminn promised then paused for a moment as Alisaie and Nero traded criticisms.

“I told you that you had flipped it to early but oh no, Miss Leveilluer knows everything. And by everything, I mean nothing.”

“You don’t need to know much to know you have the manners and features of a dzo, Nero.” 

“…I am so very happy to be reunited with you all.”

“Your armor and the Red Baron are in the workshop, Nero. I made a couple improvements.” Cid offered with a smirk and Nero set his coffee down sharply, glaring at the other Garlean.

“If you touched….”

“It had to be done.” Cid grinned, taking a mouthful of his own coffee. “You locked the Red Baron to responded solely to you again and Jenomis needed it to complete his disguise.”

Nero's blue eyes flashed towards Cid, then narrowed.

"If you're waiting for a thank you..."

"If you tried I should summon a Medicus to examine your head." Cid snorted. "You might think about thanking Dainty though. It was her what dragged you home and sacrificed her Blessing to do it."

F’lahminn gave a soft little gasp, and instantly went to Dainty’s side to stroke her blonde curls.

“Dainty! You didn’t tell me that, are you well?”

“Of course I am. It will come back, you know. I am not dying.” Dainty laughed, stepping away to add more batter to the waffle maker so that Alisaie could try again.

“We will not hold our breaths for your gratitude, we all know you’ve the face and manners of a herd animal and a deepeye on a hamster wheel for a brain.” Alisaie informed Nero in her usual irreverent manner.

He still technically “owed” her for taking him to the Binding Coils of Bahamut but she wasn’t expecting that debt to be acknowledged, let alone repaid either.

“Now that the Praefectus is awake we really ought to debrief before Gaius arrives, looking for pie. You know he always turns up demanding that I feed him when he has been out of the country.” Dainty pointed out before handing Alphinaud some peaches to cut now that he had finished with the strawberries.

“Yes, good idea. Then I had best get to the Imperial Theater Ship. If I hurry there will yet be time for a full dress-rehearsal before the show opens.” F’lahminn observed as she found some cream in need of whipping and instantly began on the task.

Ever the military man Nero’s expression instantly became serious, recognizing that Dainty was entirely correct. They needed to get their stories straight before the Emperor began to question them and he knew only that which he had overheard F’lahminn and Dainty discussing.

He nodded, taking a seat at the breakfast table closest to the kitchen and, for once in his life, closing his mouth to just listen.

The beginning of the story was the truth. Nero had found the hidden Ultima Weapon and his ever-burning desire to best Cid in all things Engineering had motivated him to get the monstrous weapon working.

Nero remained shameless despite Alisaie’s tone being quite accusatory when she relayed that part.

From there things diverted, keeping their feet enough in the truth to be believable while not being fully accurate.

Nero had realized an Ascian were sniffing around his heels and, by pretending to buy its lies, had lured it to Azys Lla where he used the might of the restored Ultima Weapon to slay it, destroying the Allagans relic in the process.

Simultaneously, Yotsuyu had come to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to reveal her brothers’ treachery. Alisaie had reported this to the Praefectus Totaleum Immortum, as she should, and it was Nero that had sent Yotsuyu to Rhitahtyn van Arvina for safe keeping and to part her from the Mirror.

Once the Ascian was destroyed Nero had sent the troops home so that he could explore Azys Lla to assess its viability as an outpost. He then travelled to Castrum Meridianium to return to Garlemald with Rhitahtyn and the VIth to see to the traitors within its walls. It was actually Jenomis cen Lexantale in Nero's armor who had arrived at Castrum Meridianium but if Rhitahtyn was aware of that, he was keeping it to himself. Jenomis being the talented actor he was all felt confident in saying that Rhitahtyn had been simply unaware the loud mouthed, arrogant man in the Nero's armor had not been Nero himself.

“Had you not awoken when you did you would have been quietly sent to Doma with F’lahminn for a “honeymoon” but you’ve elected to grace us all with your presence, so you are here, selfishly hogging Dainty’s very good coffee instead.” Alisaie finished as Nero rose to drain the carafe into his cup, making it his third refill. “You could have offered your wife a cup, dzo features.”

“F’lahminn does not drink coffee, it does not agree with her stomach” Nero retorted. He had been living with the Miqo’te for well over a month and knew she preferred tea, or sparkling water with her breakfast. 

“I thought you would have noticed that before today, Alisaie.” F’lahminn, setting the now whipped cream beside Dainty who was frying bacon, offered helpfully. This earned a snort of amusement and a smile from Nero.

That was rather pleasant, he had to own, having his own built in back up in arguments to agree with him.

F’lahminn smiled back sweetly, something that was instantly noticed by the entire room before Nero’s features quickly fell into a scowl.

He was absolutely not dealing with having pleasing thoughts about his Minn-a right now.

That required at least 4 cups of coffee, and a good deal of that bacon Dainty was cooking at absolute minimum.

 

* * * * 

 

The remains of the breakfast was littered around the table, those assembled, minus F’lahminn who had taken herself to the Theater Ship as intended after eating only a small meal.

Nero was glad to see the back of her for the time being, if he was honest. Her gentle smiles were making him twitchy.

Nero regarded the Mirror, said to contain the essence of a the Primal Tsukyomi. Idly he wondered if it would make a good power source for upgrading the Red Baron before remembering sharply that Garlond had admitted to messing Nero’s beloved Reaper.

“Your workshop. Now.” Nero demanded, rising to his feet instantly.

“No.” Cid retorted. “I am going to help Dainty clean up, then we can go retrieve your things. If you want that to go faster you can do the drying.”

“You do realize, Garlond, that I could have you arrested?”

“Oh Hells, would you?” Cid requested, the picture of earnestness. “Gaius keeps adding to my bloody to-do list and I’m never going to get Dainty’s fountain finished before the summer at this rate. Have me arrested, Dainty can bail me out and I’ll be free to loaf about here for at least two weeks until Gaius notices and overturns everything.” 

“I wouldn’t give you the bloody satisfaction.” Nero scowled and stalked towards the sink, making an impatient “well?!” gesture. If he had to do the drying someone better hurry up and start the washing.

Cid and Dainty exchanged an amused glance.

They had figured Nero would start with the threats of arrest sooner or later, no matter what he had promised her, and each had agreed that Cid acting grateful about it would be the fastest way to get Nero to shut up.

“You know how to do dishes?” Nero asked skeptically as Cid joined him at the sink, the Twins starting to collect the dishes from the table and Dainty moving to pack up the excess fruit. 

Alphinaud had cut entirely too much but that was little more than a good excuse for her make a peach tart later.

“You be nice to me or Dainty won’t make any fresh coffee.” Cid warned with a laugh.

“I know how to make my own coffee, unlike some spoiled swots around here.” Nero retorted, eyeballing his longtime rival.

“Yes, but not like she does.” Cid agreed jovially, not the least bit concerned for Nero’s snark. It had no real bite to it anyway.

They all recognized it for what it was, a man who was desperately uncomfortable with being vulnerable trying to regain his sense of normalcy and his equilibrium. Nero did not well tolerate owing a debt to anyone, let alone someone as contentious in his life as Cid nan Garlond.

Nero shot a glance at Dainty, who was paused by the coffee maker, hands stilled in the act of making more coffee. She gave him an angelic smile.

Nero grumbled under his breath but said nothing more. He would not be nice to Cid, but he could be not un-nice. That was the best Dainty was getting.

The blond Garlean held his tongue until the drying was done before tapping his foot and pointedly looking at Cid, arms folded across his chest.

“Just take the ill-mannered herd animal out for his walkies and spare us his dramatics, Cid” Alisaie snorted. “Alphinaud and I will handle the rest.”

The dishes might be done but the cleaning of the breakfast table and kitchen still needed seeing to.

“Alright, alright. Come on then, you impatient buffoon.” Cid threw the dishtowel in the sink and moved to give Dainty a kiss on the cheek.

She handed him a cup of coffee, followed by a cup for Nero who didn’t thank her.

“You know, I think you’re wrong, Alisaie. Dzo have much better manners than Nero. They, at least, are grateful when you feed them!” Alphinaud observed to the departing Garleans’ backs and earned a peel of laughter from both Alisaie and Dainty that followed them out of the house.

As Cid’s workshop was close to the house, and a direct path was cut across the estate from one to the other it did not take long for Cid and Nero to traverse the distance.

The white stone paths crunching pleasantly underfoot and the spring sunshine giving pathways an extra dose of shine.

The estate was still mostly in the state of disrepair and neglect that it had been in when Dainty arrived, she had made improvements but, Warrior of Light or no, she was still only one person and her focus had been the inside of the house more than the gardens.

There were significant dots of lush green in the once entirely brown, dead property however.

The rose maze and its Doman pagoda and the citrus orchard were vibrant points of colour. The expansive back lawn, with its half-built fountain and landscaping also stood in stark contrast to the areas Dainty had yet to restore.

Cid’s palm opened the Workshop, it unlocked for him alone. Not even Dainty could open it, which was helpful since Cid did like to occasionally spoil her with gifts and she or Tartaru would unrepentantly snoop into any package that Cid brought into the house.

Nero’s eyes fell on his beloved Red Baron, and the “improvements” Cid had made too it in the form of two large googly eyes which had been stuck to each side.

The silly child’s prank toys making the Reaper appear cross eyed and dimwitted.

“Oh, bloody cute, Garlond!” Nero snorted, stalking over and attempting to remove them only to discover they had been affixed quite firmly with enamel adhesive that had bonded to the paint. 

Getting them off would require at least a couple hours work and full sanding and repainting to conceal the evidence of their attachment.

“That’s for not thanking Dainty, I knew you wouldn’t, ungrateful bloody git.” Cid smirked, arms folded across his chest and quite enjoying Nero’s anger.

It was times like this when Nero was palpably reminded how large a hand Gaius had had in raising Cid nan Garlond.

“It’s dzo features, get it right.” Nero grumbled

“My mistake, I’ll stick to Spectacular Shitshow next time.” Cid laughed, and Nero looked at him sourly commenting snarkily.

“I could strip you of your titles in an instant.”

“Shit, Nero, would you? Dainty would be delighted if I told her we could pack up and move to Kugane or Thavnair, responsibility free. You know how she hates the summers here.” Cid requested. “Hells, we could be set in a fantastic little apartment before Gaius even noticed I was gone if I timed it right.”

“You bloody wish.” Nero flipped him off, going to investigate the Red Baron’s internals to make sure Cid hadn’t messed with it too badly in the process of having Jenomis cen Lexantale impersonate Nero.

Nero’s thoughts circled back quickly to the fact that he still stood as Praefectus Totaleum Immortum, able to threaten Cid with arrest and the like solely because of Cid nan Garlond and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

A red Ascian’s mask was sitting on the seat of the Red Baron and recognizing it as belonging to the Overlord who had possessed him. Nero subconsciously hesitated a moment before picking up.

“Ah, yes. You’ll need that as “proof” of having slain an Ascian. Not that Emperor Gaius zos Baelsar is likely to question the Grand Minister of Innovation about where the Ultima Weapon went, and why.” Cid observed, sipping his coffee and puttering about with a few odds and ends.

Nero stared at the mask with an uncharacteristic lack of words. 

He kept shoving down the true weight and scope of what had occurred but now, as he looked at the Trophy of his supposed victory he could no longer hide from the inarguable truth.

He had done nothing to deserve this.

Dainty’s accusations of trying to bring Cid low a month and a half earlier had always been entirely accurate, yet she brought him back alive at vast personal cost to herself.

Had the situation been reversed, had it been Cid who had been possessed Nero wouldn’t have hesitated to ensure every person from now until eternity knew of Cid nan Garlond’s disgrace.

“Why.”

Nero’s face was utterly inscrutable. No particular emotion in his blue eyes, nor in his voice as Cid glanced over at where Nero stood, staring into the hollow eye sockets of the Ascian’s mask.

Nero’s possession and disgrace, and the Scions and Cid protecting him from it had gone unspoken over breakfast. Once he had been debriefed all seemed content to never mention it again.

Until now, it seemed. 

Cid shelved the comment he might have made about Nero’s armor needing an upgrade from a skilled Engineer instead of a child with an etch-a-sketch, instead letting the other Garlean dwell in his momentary humility.

As fleeting as Cid knew it would be.

“Why not.” Cid returned in a similarly neutral tone of voice. 

“I did not deserve this.”

“I won’t disagree. You’re a petty shit-head, Praefectus but you’re our petty shit-head.” Cid’s tone held absolutely no respect for Nero’s title whatsoever, earning him a narrowed eyed look from Nero and a sharp;

“Get fucked, Garlond.”

"Nah, I just ate, Dainty’ll be keener for it before lunch." Cid retorted, gesturing lightly with his coffee cup and Nero snorted in disgust. “You started it and speaking of wives yours is going to be devastated if you miss the opening night of her play.”

“Oh, just what I need, marriage advice from the man who had his wife handed to him on a silver sodding platter.”

“As did you.” Cid challenged and when Nero glared at him Cid added. “Go on then, tell me I’m wrong like you want to, so I can call you a liar to your face. F’lahminn served herself up to you on a silver sodding platter and I’ll wager you’ve been about as grateful for that as you were to Dainty and Alisaie for saving your ass. ”

“I will have you know I have given that woman everything she has asked me for.”

“Except a thank you.” Cid retorted sardonically. “Glare all you like Nero, you’re the idiot who flung stones while living in a glass house. You ought stop counting what you don’t have and start being appreciative about what you do, Praefectus Totalem Immortum.”

Cid stressed the other man’s title, although if the message actually impinged through Nero’s manner layers of ego and snark, it was impossible to know and Cid shrugged, adding lightly; “Besides, remember, if you like her, and she you, you win." 

“Win? Oh, this should be rich. What precisely do I win?” Nero tossed aside the mask, compartmentalizing the emotions it had summoned as was his want and utterly ignoring Cid’s pointed comments towards Nero’s lack of gratitude.

"What was Gaius' line again, when ordering you to marry?" Cid questioned, arching a white eyebrow at the other Garlean, curious if Nero would catch his train of thought before he had to verbalize it.

"If I have to suffer marriage, you have to suffer marriage."

"That was it... only what happens if you aren't actually suffering?" Cid pressed, leadingly. “How twisted you reckon Gaius would be if he saw F’lahminn loving on you the way Dainty does on me?”

Nero's lips thinned as he considered this.

He had no real desire to be fussed over and touched and petted to the extent that Dainty did Cid but his mind had already started to consider the possibility that comforting touches outside of the bedroom might be tolerable without the added benefit of Gaius being sour to realize Nero was perfectly content to be wed, and by Gaius' own machinations.

Nero had observed just from watching the Scions and Dainty interact that Eorzeans tended to be physically demonstrative in a way Garleans were not.

F’lahminn had embraced Alphinaud in greeting and hugged Dainty and stroked her hair before breakfast, Nero recalled quickly.

No doubt she would be comfortable doing the same to him outside of their bedroom, if he gave her the slightest degree of permission to do so.

Although he would still prefer to not be married he couldn't say he had been suffering, precisely. No more than he normally did anyway.

"It is not as though the Emperor could order us divorced." Nero commented after a moment or two. "Nor send me on a long military campaign to part us when his policies are coalition, not conquest."

"Also, you control the armies, remember?" Cid reminded Nero with a snort. “That Ascian really did a number on your head, didn’t he.”

Nero scowled but didn’t deny Cid’s words.

Nero liked winning.

Nero especially liked winning over Gaius, who had ever been his most ardent tormentor. “Tell me the truth, Garlond, or prove yourself a liar for claiming you know your little wife’s personality quirks...Why.”

Why was such exacting care taken to bring him home alive and with his reputation intact. His easy answer about them wanted to protect F'lahminn did not seem quite so accurate anymore, not now that he knew Dainty's Blessing had been sacrificed.

F'lahminn would have been fine without him. The Garlond wealth meant they could take in any and all of the Scions without even blinking and Dainty had never approved of F’lahminn’s decision to marry Nero.

By Nero’s calculations the Au Ra should have champing at the bit to put a period of his life so as to remove his presence from F’lahminn and Cid’s sphere of influence.

Cid stilled from where he was tidying up some screws simply to keep his hands occupied. Not sure how honest to be with Nero, not sure how the other man would react.

Neither of them believed in the Gods that Dainty swore fealty too, yet Cid could not deny something empowered Dainty in an unnatural and superior way. She called that something Hydaelyn, the Mother Crystal and Cid was not of a mind to argue about things he did not know about.

“Dainty says you’ve some part yet to play. To be honest I don't exactly understand what she means by that.” Cid frowned, trying to decide the best words to describe what little he did fathom about Dainty's responsibilities to the Star upon which they lived. “Presumably Dainty believes that, when the time comes, when everything is on the line, you can be trusted to do the right thing.”

Cid paused to give Nero a level, but nonjudgmental look;

“Whether she’s right or wrong about that is up to you.”


	26. Chapter 26

His Radiance, Emperor Gaius zos Baelsar and his new wife, Her Excellency, Livia wir Baelsar arrived at the Garlond Estates to a rather perplexing scene.

The majority of those that lived on the properties were on the expansive back lawn, except for Cid nan Garlond, who was roughly 4 malms above it. He was clearly standing on something, rather than floating by the position of his feet.

What he stood upon, however, was entirely invisible.

Nero xe Scaeva was hovering nervously around the area below where Cid was standing while Alisaie and Alphinaud were offering completely unhelpful advice from the side-lines.

“Maybe if we sprayed it down with coloured liquid?”

“No!” Nero insisted firmly with a glare.

Gaius, shielding his eyes faintly from the mid-day sunshine looked up as his surrogate son curiously.

“What the Seven Hells are you standing on?”

“Nero’s Red Baron.” Cid informed Gaius cheerfully, earning him a look of utter hatred from Nero and leading Cid to add, equally cheerfully. “He deserved it.”

“Deserved it?!” Nero sputtered indignantly. “Oh that’s bloody rich! You dared install your piece of shit, malfunctioning, ill-advised child’s toy into MY Reaper and have the balls to stand there and say I deserved it??”

The blond Praefectus’ cautious behavior, running his hands over the currently not visible to the naked eye Reaper, now made a lot of sense.

“I told you not to be rude to Dainty.” Cid laughed at Nero. “And it’s not malfunctioning. The Reaper is invisible! It isn’t the devices fault I failed to consider that rendering the Red Baron invisible would also render the off-switch invisible, now is it?”

“You know, Nero might have a deepeye on a hamster wheel of a brain, Cid but sometimes I am not sure you’re much better.” Alisaie added.

“I’m really not!” Cid chortled. 

“It’s like the pair of them are back at the Academy again.” Gaius commented sotto voice to Livia, who smirked a little. 

Once upon a time the snarky comments that made up the majority of Gaius’ sense of humor would have been reserved for Cid and his family. Now they were for her and that, more so than the fact he had declared her his wife, made Livia confident that Gaius was hers.

“What are you even doing here, Nero?” Livia questioned, surprised to see the man at the Garlond Estates by choice.

“He came to have breakfast while Lady Scaeva is busy with opening day preparations with the Imperial Theatre Company.” Dainty, easily the best actress and most glib liar among them, answered as she appeared from within the house to greet the new comers.

“You. Feed me.” Gaius demanded, pointing at Dainty, who giggled and took no offense, having fully expected this. The food at the Ala Mhigan palace had been far from inadequate but Dainty had a knack for cooking that put many to shame.

She also often cooked the hearty, yet delicious foods of the common man, similar to that which Gaius had grown up on, giving him a strong preference for her dishes as opposed to the fussy, exquisite fare he was often served as the Emperor of the Imperial Empire. 

“The catfish and popoto gratin for lunch isn’t quite done steaming yet but I’ve a freshly made peach tart if you would like a slice.” Dainty offered, and Gaius nodded, finding this acceptable.

The Emperor’s pale green eyes roved to Nero, the talk of food reminding Gaius that Nero’s behavior was distinctly out of character.

“Since when do you socialize willing with Cid, Nero?” Gaius questioned, mostly rhetorically and assessing him with an undeniably impressed expression. Then nudged Livia with his elbow. “Your pride could learn a thing or two.”

Livia straightened her spine, tossing her hair and making the blonde length dance about her bare shoulders. She was dressed in a simple, if exquisitely tailored dress of soft cotton as would be expected of a Royal Wife.

“I learned my pride from the best.” Livia retorted, side eyeing Gaius in a slightly hungry manner. She had learned it from him, after all. Gaius shook his head as if he had no idea what she was talking about before Livia spat; “Traitor.” at Nero.

They had once been unified in their hatred of the Emperor’s favorite.

“Blame your husband, Livia. He is the one that told me to get married to an Eorzean, of course she happened to be Lady Garlond’s best friend. Where else was I going to find one?” Nero retorted archly.

“Ah yes. Not for you, indeed.” Gaius smirked at Nero, repeating words spoken by the blonde the day F’lahminn had been taken from Ishgard. 

Nero did not bother to dignify that dig with a response.

Everyone knew damn well that Nero had kidnapped F’lahminn for Dainty’s benefit, not his own and there was no point arguing with the Emperor when he was in a mood to push buttons. It merely gave Gaius more fodder with which to twist the metaphorical screws.

Nero was too controlled to ever fully explode at Gaius but the fact remained that Nero would never forgive the Emperor for the conditions that came with the promotion to rank Praefectus Totaleum Immortum. 

Being put into a position of having to compromise his honor and morals for Gaius’ amusement, no matter how well it may or may not turn out, was nothing something Nero would soon forget.

Dainty disappeared back into the house but returned a few moments later with a bottle and a box that made Cid jump down from the Reaper with a large grin.

“Oi! Get back up there and fix this!” Nero demanded but was utterly ignored as Cid crossed to Dainty quickly, collecting the objects before she returned to the kitchen to get Gaius his pie.

Cid tucked the small box under one arm before turning and offering the amusingly phallus shaped bottle to Gaius.

“Is this….” Gaius frowned, recognition flaring in his eyes.

“The bottle you gave my Father the day he married my Mother, if what I was told is true. Since he ain’t present to return the favour, I thought I best do it.” Cid laughed, gave Gaius a light clap on the shoulder and offered a sincere. “Congratulations.”

“Where’s my gift?” Livia asked archly, unimpressed to see the way Gaius has instantly retreated into the past, staring at the bottle with unfocused eyes. 

Cid offered her the box with a smirk.

She really ought to have known his manners were entirely too refined not to also have a gift for her by now. She had grown up beside him, despite being 7 years younger.

Suspicious Livia took it, opening it and making an ugly face to see the silver and opal necklace and earring set within. The style was simple, and desperately out of fashion, and the jewelry itself had not been particularly expensive to begin with.

40 years of it sitting in a drawer at the Garlond Estates had served it well, however. The silver untarnished for its age and the stones unchipped although the velvet it resided on had faded a little. 

Gaius recognized it as instantly as he did the bottle, setting that aside to pick up the necklace with graceful fingers and admiring the way the multi-coloured stone glittered in the light.

Opals were not fashionable in Garlemald, considered only semi-precious and vastly inferior to the diamonds, rubies and sapphires Dainty’s jewelry boasted. The vast difference between the type of jewelry Cid gave Dainty versus herself raised Livia’s hackles instantly.

Especially since Cid nan Garlond could very easily afford far better than out of date opals for Livia’s wedding gift.

“Really, Cid?” Livia glared witheringly. “A cheap….”

“I gave this set to Midas’ new bride on the day of their wedding.” Gaius cut Livia off swiftly, realizing the significance of the gift instantly. “I were only a rem then, and unable to afford better than the simple trinkets, in fact had I not known full well Midas would let me take any left overs I desired from their wedding feast, I should not have been able to afford it at all.”

Cid’s Mother and Gaius had not been even close to what anyone could have considered friends.

She had been an unstable, jealous woman who resented every second that Midas spent with Gaius above herself.

Similarly Gaius thought her a shrill, over-dramatic harpy who only loved Midas for what she thought she could turn him into, not the brilliant man he already was.

Still Gaius’ friendship with Midas nan Garlond had motivated the military man to at least make an effort, a peace offering of sorts, to be civil with the woman now that she was wedded to his closest friend.

He set the necklace back in its box beside the earrings and Livia regarded them in a new light.

Cid had given her something that her beloved Gaius had once gifted another woman. Her irrational jealousy was instantly entirely delighted by that.

“Thank you.” Livia muttered, barely managed to make herself speak the words of gratitude to one she had loathed for so long.

“You’re welcome Liv…ia.” Cid supplied only to have the armor-clad Nero take a very firm grip on the back of his clothing a fully drag him back towards the still invisible Red Baron angrily insisting;

“I swear on my life, Garlond, if you don’t fix this I will end you! I don’t care if Dainty murders me right after!”

“Oh, I think I found it.” Alisaie, who had taken Cid’s position on the Red Baron, flicked the switch her small hand was curled around, which resulted in the Red Baron shuddering back into visibility, and also taking off in a dead sprint for no apparent reason.

“Shit!” Cid yelped, giving chase, as if he had any hope of catching a Magitek Reaper on foot.

“Morons.” Nero sighed, activating a kill switch in the forearm of his armor that instantly stilled the Reaper, the momentum of it coming to a dead stop flinging Alisaie out of the Reaper and into the grass.

She rolled easily with the impact, popping up with a heated glare at Nero.

“You dzo-faced, cake witted pissant! I could have broken my neck!!”

Gaius put his face in one hand and fully laughed, shoulders shaking with merriment at the idiotic scene. It really was as if Cid and Nero had regressed to being teenagers, although they really should have known this would happen the contentious pair ever managed to be friends once more.

For all their genius the Engineers could be damned fools at times, Gaius knew this well from having watched them grow.

Dainty rejoined them, carrying a peach tart, plates and a big bowl of whipped cream on a tray that half dwarfed her slender form.

“Sorry it took so long. I had to whip fresh cream, someone…” Dainty glared at Alisaie, who was momentarily distracted from yelling at Nero to smile innocently “… had stuck her finger in the left-overs from breakfast.”

Alisaie was known to like her sweets and may have eaten several fingerfuls of whipped cream directly from the communal bowl when no one was watching earlier. 

No one paid much attention as Cid and Nero instantly started arguing over whose fault the Red Baron’s uncontrolled sprint was, instead moving to the shaded picnic table further up the yard where Dainty was setting out the pie and plates.

Alisaie and Alphinaud waiting for Gaius and Livia to take their places at the table before joining them, with Dainty sitting last after bringing out cups and a large pitcher of lemonade for the group to enjoy.

Her penchant for the sweet and tart drink was a disappointment to none.

“Hmm, I don’t think that peach tart will be enough. Fortunately, I’ve some banana pie in the ice-box.” Dainty observed lightly, and Nero’s head shot up.

“Banana pie?!” The Praefectus gave Cid a solid shove backwards and abandoned their argument in favor of crossing to where the others were sitting.

Dainty’s banana pie was legendary, and she did not make it very often as she personally preferred the flavors of stone fruits such as peaches, cherries and mangoes.

Banana pie was, however, the favorite of both Nero and Cid, the former of which was determined to get first dibs on the rare treat. 

“I hear you're to be congratulated. Not many can claim to have brought down an Ascian.” Gaius observed, clear suspicions in his tone and his dark eyes lingering on Dainty as she returned from retrieving the banana pie from inside the house.

Gaius was clearly suspicious as to whose hand had actually performed the task, cutting himself an excessively large slice of peach tart and taking much more than his fair share of the whipped cream.

“Don’t look at me. I was sticking close to Tsukuyomi’s Mirror in case it attempted to latch onto another’s aether and remaining on stand-by to fly to Castrum Meridianium if there was a Primal Manifestation.” Dainty disavowed easily. “As much as I would not mind being able to add another Ascian notch to my belt that weren’t where my unique talents were best utilized in this case.”

“Yes, of course.” Gaius observed, unable to argue with that fact. His eyes roved to Nero, who smiled smugly in response. “Apparently promoting you was wiser on my part than I ever imagined.”

“Careful, Gaius. You’re perilously close to complimenting me in public.” Nero shot back and earned himself a bark of laughter from the Emperor.

“Can’t have that, now can we?”

“Will you be joining us at Opening Night of the new show at the Imperial Theater Ship tonight?” Dainty asked Gaius and Livia, a clear hopefulness in her tone of voice and eager to change the subject before Gaius thought to question Cid too deeply. She was a skilled actress, and Nero a talented tactician who knew when to say nothing but Gaius had ever been able to read Cid like a book.

F’lahminn had mentioned that tickets had not sold quite as speedily as Jenomis had hoped and he was anxious for the play to be well received so that it would restore the company’s fortunes.

Dainty and Cid planned to attend, Jenomis cen Lexantale had reserved them a private box as thanks for the use of her kimonos. Nero had begrudgingly admitted he would not disappoint F’lahminn and would attend also, despite having zero interest in the themes of the production.

This would not doubt motivate many to mimic the behaviors of the Grand Minister of Innovation and the Praefectus Totaleum Immortum. Cid, with the Garlond name and his familiar ties to the Emperor had always been considered within the upper Echelons of Garlean Society. 

Nero, by dint of his promotion and the fact he had served as the Emperor’s second in command within the XIVth for so many years was now regarded similarly. Those that once called him "Lapdog" now nervously eye'd him as he went by, hoping he would not remember such slights.

But the favorable light Cid, Nero and Dainty's attendance would throw onto the production would pale in comparison to the radiant spotlight of approval the Emperor and Empress would be able to grant the Imperial Theater Company.

Especially now, as newlyweds, choosing this particular play to step out for their first social event together as husband and wife.

There would be riot over any unsold seats at the Opening Night once the Emperor made his appearance and the other shows would be gone within minutes.

Dainty was entirely aware that the play doing well could only benefit Doma and, her missing Blessing or not, she was always on the lookout for ways to arrange things for the benefit of her fellow man.

As was her responsibility as the Warrior of Light.

Gaius considered this as Cid finally joined them, he had purposefully lingered back, feigning needed to wipe ceruleum covered hands on a rag, for the same reason Dainty had so swiftly changed the subject. 

“The Theater Ship does have a reserved suite for the Emperor.” Gaius mused, looking at Livia. Solus zos Galvus had been a Patron of the Arts and had always insisted that any Theater, Museum, Park or Venue have a private area where he could partake of the entertainment or exhibit away from public spectating. “What do you think, Livia? Do you want to go to the Theater tonight?”

A pretty flush touched the woman’s cheeks, deeply flattered that the self-centered man had thought to ask her, rather than just informing her of his decision. She knew what Gaius was.

“It would not be torture to be seen upon your arm, my love.” Livia offered, a thrill running through her that she was free to address him as such, at long last, after so many years of only saying it in her mind.

She and Dainty had both expected Gaius to insist upon a long engagement, while he did everything in power to attempt to get out of having to submit to Matrimony but, to Livia's eternal delight, he seemed to have taken to the convention with an uncharacteristic equanimity. Perhaps they had been correct about him mellowing with age, rather than it being solely a line with which to provoke him.

“Do you want to wear one of my proper antique Doman kimonos, Livia? I’ve a red one I have never worn that would look well beside Gaius’ ornamental attire.” Dainty offered before her grin turned wicked and she winked. “It’s even got side slits in the underskirt, very helpful for playing The Emperor and the Doman Pleasure Girl later.”

Alphinaud snorted his lemonade, almost gagging in shock at how blatantly Dainty spoke to the Empress of the Imperial Empire as if they were nothing but close friends.

“Yes, she does. And you aren’t getting it back.” Gaius answered instantly, making Dainty laugh before Gaius noticed something odd.

He set his fork down a moment to get a better look before asking;

“Why does the Red Baron have googly eyes on it?”


	27. In Which Nero Fixes Some Things.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero has a good hard think about his life and F'lahminn discovers things are going far better than expected.

Nero had never been so turned on in his entire life.

It was a distinctly uncomfortable sensation.

Down the stage F’lahminn kept belting out that same note she tended to hit right before she came.

He kept having to adjust in his seat to try take some of the pressure off his groin and hope to all Seven Hells that the other people in the private box with him did not note his discomfort.

F’lahminn was dressed in a glamorized version of an Imperial Army Sequtors uniform and Nero had always had a thing for women in military dress.

He was getting her that costume to take home, he didn’t care what he had to do or if anyone didn’t like it.

Nero’s tendency to be possessive was also coming into play.

Watching the audience adore F’lahminn while knowing she was all his and his alone was playing heavily in his mind.

The applause for her aria just before intermission had been thunderous and seeing her lauded so, and no doubt desired by so many when only he could touch her only made him want her more.

Nero honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had had this much problem keeping himself in check, even his usual trick of flexing a different muscle to stimulate blood flow away from his groin was doing absolutely nothing.

He had not been this aroused since he was a hormonal teenager and happened to catch a peek down his favorite teachers’ blouse.

He was thankful the other peoples in the large, luxurious private box with him were keeping to themselves and the moment intermission was called they rose to get fresh drinks.

It rankled him that he was stuck in a mere private box with the Leveilluer Twins and Tartaru Taru while Cid and Dainty were sat in the Emperor's Reserve box with Gaius and Livia.

It should have been Nero with the Emperor. As Praefectus Totaleum Immortum, that would have been the correct protocol. He was entitled to it.

However, etiquette said that when Gaius tossed a line about wanting to sit with his “Family” Nero should salute and cede his place to the Emperor's surrogate son and favorite.

Nero had, of course, and was still pissy about it. 

Even as the Twins jumped up excitedly for intermission, chattering between themselves and hoping to catch Dainty stretching her legs in the hallway between Acts, Nero’s mood was wavering between annoyed and aroused.

Despite Nero telling himself the man was an idiot who was not worth listening to Cid's words continued to play heavily in Nero's mind. 

“You ought stop counting what you don’t have and start being appreciative about what you do…”

Nero had not had much to be appreciative about in the past. It was far from the first time he had been told to count his blessings, but Nero considered his only blessing worth a damn his superior mind, which had been often discounted.

He was not sure what it would feel like to appreciate what he had.

His mind had instantly turned to exiling himself from the only home he had ever known because it could not face the embarrassment of having undone himself. At having lost control. At having squandered his perfect opportunity to prove himself the superior Engineer.

He knew he should feel a fool for his ambitions almost costing him so dearly, but he had numbed himself to any form of vulnerability for so long that humility was not an emotion Nero was familiar with anymore.

Gratitude and appreciation, he understood these things conceptually but to actually experience them was a distant and strange notion to Nero.

It was far from the first time he had been shown friendship, or kindness but never without strings attached. Never without a quid pro quo circumstance where he was expected to reciprocate in some manner.

Dainty and Alisaie had stood to gain nothing from helping him and expected exactly the same.

Nothing.

Alisaie deserved to wear the title Ascian Slayer, it benefitted her not in the slightest to cede it to him yet she did so without blinking.

Dainty was fundamentally altered for having brought him back alive, and merely shrugged at this when it was noted.

It was the first time in his life, now that Nero actually put thought into it, that he had ever been shown genuine selflessness.

And it completely undid him.

His threats to strip Cid nan Garlond of his titles had been utterly empty because, deep down, Nero knew damn well he deserved the torment of having mischief made with the Red Baron for not thanking Dainty and Alisaie both.

Deep down he knew they deserved his gratitude but to admit it aloud was to open himself up to the fact that he had been wrong and that was something Nero just could not do.

From the first day his Father had laid his hand across Nero’s face for daring to look at his Father the “wrong” way Nero had been deeply acquainted with the fact that to be wrong, in any way, meant undue and severe punishment.

And Nero had been wrong for being born as far as his parents had been concerned, at least until the day he reached Magitek school, at which point he became wrong for not being as good as Cid Garlond, despite that being an impossible standard whilst ever he bore the last name Scaeva.

Nero was just considering taking a somewhat painful walk to try and distract himself the Twins returned, chatting merrily and carrying drinks. Both were drinking nothing more intoxicating than sugar laded fruit juice that had been coloured fancifully with dyes and topped with spun sugar.

Alphinaud was carrying a large yard glass of a pale, fizzy beer that Nero instantly recognized as that which F’lahminn had procured for him when she had cooked a lavish traditional meal.

“Compliments of F’lahminn.” Alphinaud explained, offering Nero the beer, which had a small note affixed to the outside of the glass that bore her dressing room number, indicating her desire for him to meet her there after the production. “She could not linger but wished me to convey that she was gratified you chose to attend tonight.” 

“Did she actually think I wouldn’t?” Nero scowled, unimpressed at this rather than being thankful that F’lahminn took the time to note his presence.

“Did your self-centered, narcissistic ass do anything to make her think you would?” Alisaie questioned snidely. 

“I am her husband. Where else would I be?”

“Off being a self-centered, narcissistic ass. Obviously.” Alisaie laughed. “How would she know something you never told her?”

Not that Nero would admit it out loud that was not an unwarranted taunt.

F’lahminn kept scolding him not to be unkind and what it really came down to was her not knowing what had never been taught to her. She had lived in Garlemald barely above a month, of course she would not know things that he, born and raised within the Empire’s boundaries, took for granted as common knowledge. 

Nero had been harshly scolded for the same “crime’ many a time, often by Gaius and Nero hated it as much F’lahminn did when he did it to her.

He instantly resolved never to do that again. Not only because he had given her his word but because he would not allow the charge of hypocrisy to be levelled at him truthfully. 

The music swelled as the second act began, reminding those lingering to take the seats.

Nero had not paid much attention to the first act other than when F’lahminn was on stage. The love story was not particularly something he would have sort out viewing were his wife not starring in the lead role. Now that he had been furnished with a large beer he doubted he would give much attention to the second, if he was honest.

Other than F’lahminn telling him about her having accepted the part, and her occasionally mentioning that Jenomis was worried about the slow ticket sales her role in the Imperial Theatre Companies Doman extravaganza had not been spoken of between them.

She practiced her routines and songs at the Theatre Ship, or while baking with Dainty at the Garlond Estates.

Nero had not seen, nor heard her rehearsing any of her lines. Not that he would have been home to do so, leaving early and returning late in his desire to restore the Ultima Weapon. 

It had not occurred to Nero to think this in any way detrimental. His joys in life were building magitek, sex and lording over Garlond, the current arrangement had given him an ample supply of all 3 with very little to distract him from any of it.

It was only when F’lahminn took to the stage of her second solo did Nero’s mind return to the present. The music that accompanied her entrance was instantly recognizable as that of the Garlean National Anthem. 

If fit the play, as little attention as Nero had been paying; his mind was awash with self-recriminations and examining his behavior so as never to make certain mistakes again. 

The lead character, an Empire born citizen, despite being played by a Miqo’te, was torn between her devotion to the Empire and her love for a Doman conscript beneath her in the Army.

The Garlean National Anthem, a normally rousing victory song about the glory of the Empire was instead turned into a mournful ballad by the talented Songstress, who performed it in the Garlean tongue.

Nero almost swallowed his, watching F’lahminn’s mouth forming the words of his language flawlessly. She must have had some intense coaching to get the pronunciation so exact.

He put his face in one hand. It was bad enough she kept hitting Top-C. 

His blood pressure absolutely could not survive his Minn-a singing in his language. It was entirely too much.

 

* * * *

 

3 curtain calls and 1 encore later and a tired, but happy F’lahminn was finally able to leave the stage.

The applause had been so uproarious that Jenomis had insisted she sing the National Anthem again lest the crowd turn into a riot.

She had not minded, deeply flattered to by the attention. She had been off the stage a very long time and had somewhat forgotten just how rewarding it could be, how validating and, if she was honest, how addicting the attention was.

She was only a few paces from the wings when the first performer stopped her to offer congratulations and compliments on her performance. She gave a smile, flattered but wanting to return to her dressing room and get out of the uncomfortable geta she was wearing.

She barely managed a step before Jenomis cen Lexantale appeared at her side with a bouquet of flowers.

“Oh thank you!” F’lahminn’s tail fluffed up with delight, accepting the pretty pink roses graciously. “I was just returning to…”

“F’lahminn! You were wonderful!”

“Holy, did you hear the applause!?” 

Another voice, one of the chorus girls, demanded her attention, small hands gripping her arm.

It seemed like every single person involved in the production had suddenly taken that moment to feel the need to speak to her, and touch her shoulder or arm or demand her attention.

It was flattering, and not malicious in the slightest but it still sent panic coursing through her in an instant.

“I just, my room…please!” F’lahminn protested but her voice went unheard as someone had begun to give her a round of applause.

Being surrounded and pressed upon by all sides made F’lahminn deeply uncomfortable. It wasn’t just Dainty who had been traumatized by the events that lead to the Ul’Dah Uprising.

F’lahminn had escaped solely by the good will of some vendors who remembered her from her days as the famed Songstress of Ul’Dah.

Once Tartaru had fled F’lahminn had ducked behind some crates to hide and been covered by a tarpaulin by the shop keep they belonged to, an act of kindness she had never forgotten.

Those wishing to offer her their praise failed to notice the timid expression in her eyes, ears down turned in discomfort but Nero noted it instantly, literally elbowing someone out of his way without regard.

Rather than waiting for her at her dressing room he had been shown to the backstage area by a deferential Stage Hand, who had bowed and saluted and correctly assumed that the Praefectus Totaleum Immortum could go where-ever he pleased.

Finding F’lahminn backed into a corner by oblivious well-wishers pleased Nero very little.

As he was armor clad the sound of his footfalls caused people to rapidly get out of his way. The expression on his face rather suggesting he would absolutely walk over the top of them if they did not do so, or shoot them.

“Oh, Nero!” F’lahminn’s relief to see him showed plainly across her features. 

Nero walked easily to F’lahminn’s side, scooped her up over one shoulder, turned on heel and walked away again without saying a single word.

Several mouths gaped open, words lost midsentence, but no one dared say a single word of censure to the crimson armor clad Praefectus Totaleum Immortum. Not only did Nero have full right to help himself to F’lahminn but the Miqo’te looked frankly pleased by this turn of events.

“Am I being kidnapped somewhere again?” F’lahminn asked curiously, accidentally smacking him in the backside with the flowers she still held as he walked.

“Yes. Since you clearly can’t be trusted to walk anywhere on your own.” Nero retorted, speaking for the first time.

This worried F’lahminn not in the least, getting kidnapped places by the blond Garlean had yet to work out poorly for her.

“I might be a malm disappointed if others are present on this occasion.” F’lahminn observed, attempting to swat his rear and disappointed that she couldn’t actually grab Nero’s backside for him on account of the armor.

“Ha!” Nero gave a bark of laughter as they exited the performers quarters onto a wide, outdoor deck. Many were still lingering, talking animated about the play they had seen, the clothing the performers wore, and the fashionable members of the Garlean Social scene who had been in attendance.

Nero ignored the small bursts of gossip he heard around them, juggling F’lahminn a little ungracefully before lifting her up and into the Red Baron. He had managed to pry off the googly eyes, although the damage inflicted to the paint work remained.

F’lahminn quickly gathered the folds and fabric of her costume tightly against her, pulling her tail in close to her body as well so that Nero could climb up behind her.

She gave him such a blinding smile, ears fully wiggling joyfully that for half a moment Nero forgot what he was doing. Her softness and gentleness, something Nero had already found himself started to appreciate, suddenly did not seem the flaw that it had when they had agreed to be married.

Gaius was saddled with Livia, unstable, obsessed Livia while Nero had F’lahminn, kind and sweet F’lahminn who was just dying to adore someone so utterly she had been willing to marry and have a child with a complete stranger.

It took him a few moments to settle, arms coming around F’lahminn to grip the controls of the Magitek Reaper and setting it into motion. She curled her body against his, relaxing against him for balance and so he could see over her feline ears.

Speaking over the noise of the mechanical mount clunking a few paces across the deck was impossible but after a moment Nero engaged to flight protocols and it gave a pleasant hiss, arcing smoothly above the heads of those lingering in the area and baring them swiftly away.

“The play was good.” Nero observed blandly after a moment. The clear glass shield in front of them ensuring the wind buffet was not so severe as to prevent conversation.

F’lahminn did not take offense. Saying something was good was fairly standard for Nero when he was at least trying to remember to be complimentary. It oft took him several moments to stop focusing on himself long enough to appreciate one of her well-cooked meals.

Not due to a lack of delight in delicious repast, or because she was in any way a poor cook but simply because he had been his sole focus for so many year that old habits were hard to break.

“The few times I looked up at you, you seemed soundly bored.” F’lahminn observed with a small smile, feeling his armored body shift against hers. 

“I had a lot on my mind. I did like the bits where you were singing though.”

That seemed as genuine a compliment as she was ever going to get to F’lahminn and she smiled;

“Thank you.”

Her energy from the show was fading quickly, and the gentle rocking motion of the Red Baron as it moved seamlessly through the air was pleasantly soothing. Even with the hard metal of Nero’s armor behind her F’lahminn found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.

Her head lolled against Nero’s arm before she caught herself sharply, jerking her head back upright and blinking rapidly.

If Nero noticed he didn’t comment on it, remaining in silence until he had landed and stilled the Magitek Reaper in its usual spot outside his apartment. When he lifted her from within, however, he did not set her down.

Instead carrying her inside, and, once they were in his apartment, directly to the bedroom.

“Nero, I….” F’lahminn began, thinking he wanted to be intimate and honestly not sure she could keep her eyes open for it if he did. She needed at least a little nap first, all that singing, and dancing had taken it out of her, not to mention the 3 curtain calls.

“Sleep, Minn-a.” Nero replied firmly, setting her down on the bed.

Her cheeks coloured instantly, tail giving a little fluff;

“I quite like it when you call me Minn-a.”

“I noticed.” His tone was neutral, and almost bland as he turned, intending to exit the room to remove his armor where the sounds of doing so would not disturb her.

F’lahminn’s voice prevented him from leaving yet, however.

“You are the most infuriatingly controlled person I have ever met and your numbness to joy makes my heart ache. Yet I see the compassion in you and it makes me long to reach you somehow, to be friends with you and care for you like a wife ought to do her husband… but I do not think you will let me.” F’lahminn admitted softly, her pink eyes holding Nero’s.

She had a terrible feeling that if she tried he would remind her that was not the terms they agreed upon before marriage. 

That statement stiffened Nero’s spine, no easy rebuttal coming to his tongue. For a man who prided himself on being the most intelligent man in any room, on his quick wit and ability to snap back at any insult offered; that was telling.

Rather than being able to contradict her his mind instead compartmentalized her words, focusing in on the fact that the fabric from her costume was flowing all around her like water where she sat on his bed. Her hands were drawn up to her chest unhappily, lips and ears downturned and face still painted with stage make-up.

“It is late, and you are tired. You can have the shower first.”

This was the only answer Nero gave her before moving swiftly away. F’lahminn gave herself a little shake, crawling off the bed to shed her costume and wash her face for sleep.

It was silly of you to say such things now, when it is so late, and you are so tired. – She scolded herself, not entirely certain what she had hoped to achieve with her statement, only that it had been so nice to be taken home and taken care of the way Nero had swept her out of the Imperial Theatre ship.

The fact that Nero had gone stomping out of the room only proved her right as far as F’lahminn was concerned.

That rather depressing thought in mind she climbed under the blankets to sleep. It did not take long for sleep to claim her, exhausted as she was and despite the tumult of her mind.

Nero returned to the bedroom, freshly scrubbed clean after a shower and with a head full of wet hair, regarding the sleeping woman in his bed with inscrutable Garlean blue eyes. 

He stood at the absolute pinnacle he could ever hope to achieve in Garlemald, Praefectus Totaleum Immortum was beyond even his wildest dreams, yet he had taken little pleasure in the promotion.

He was second to none but the Emperor himself and F’lahminn was right, although he knew he ought to be happy Nero had taken no joy at this fact.

Instead focused on the conditions it came with it and, when he got his hands-on Ultima Weapon, creating his finest weapon yet. His Magnum Opus.

The rank of Xe was his Magnum Opus but Nero admitted he had been was so tunnel-vision’d on his Engineering being the key to unlocking all his hopes and dreams he had been blind to the fact that it was his Military prowess that had instead granted him all that he desired.

F’lahminn was not wrong, even he could own up to that. Displaying joy for something was risky for someone who often had anything he desired taken from him and destroyed or given to another.

It was a vulnerability Nero had not been able to risk possessing but, a little realization wormed its way up his spine, there would be no harm in taking joy in being married to F’lahminn.

Garlond was right, she couldn’t be taken away from him unless he purposefully ordered her away. 

Subconsciously, somewhere in his hyper active mind, Nero thought he must have already realized she was “safe” to like having around or else why had he taken to calling her his Minn-a and had given her all that she had asked for, as little as that was.

Biology being what it was it might take her a little while to actually conceive a child, but he was providing her with the opportunity, at least.

Slowly Nero moved to the bed, easing himself beneath the blankets so as not to wake her. When she did not stir he killed the light on the bedside table and shifted a little closer.

He still did not like to snuggle but she had displayed a preference for it and it was not a crime to give her more than she had asked for. What was the harm in allowing her to reach him?

Nero did like winning and the thought of Gaius’s impotent aggravation to see that Nero was not suffering marriage but that the Emperor could do not a thing about it was an excessively pleasant one.

His weight depressing the bed roused the Miqo’te in it a little, causing her to look over her shoulder at him with a sleepy little smile, glad that he had come to bed as she would sleep better with him beside her.

She had grown accustomed to his weight next to hers.

“You are incorrect. I will let you.” Nero informed her, seeing that her eyes were open in the dark.

“and you alone” went unspoken but F’lahminn heard it all the same.

“I…”

“Hush.”

He needed her to be silent and accept that without question. 

If she made a fuss he would absolutely feel unappreciated and defensive and lose the receptive emotional state and open mindedness he had successfully argued himself into. 

It was no small thing for him to allow himself any form of vulnerability but, he had decided she could be awarded this, since she seemed to want it to so badly. 

F’lahminn quickly did as she was told, not unaware of the significance of his statement. She was older even that Dainty, and Nero was not the first emotionally stunted man she had encountered in her life. 

Although he was the first she had attempted to love. F’lahminn returned to her position with her back to him and saying not another word.

She was jostled a little as Nero moved closer, coaxing one long arm under her pillow and other around her hips to spoon her.

It was so nice to be held, F’lahminn didn’t dare risk acknowledging it out loud and scaring Nero off. 

He had a history of being unkind to her to scare her away when they were perilously close to having a moment of connection and, having apparently realized she would not shy away so easily, was now at risk of skittering off himself. 

In the privacy of her own mind, however, she was singing in an entirely different way than she did on the stage.


	28. In Which Nero Doesn't Fuck All The Way Up

 

Nero rolled over, retracting limbs from around the sleeping Miqo’te in his bed to sprawl out on his back as the sunlight was streaming in, marking it as morning.

His right hip and spine ached dully from the odd, contorted position he had been sleeping in.

F’lahminn instantly rolled over, snuggling up to his side, an arm across his chest and murmuring “no.” softly but quite firmly.

“Minn-a, I snuggled you all night. How much more do you want?”

“All of them.” F’lahminn insisted with a giggle, stroking her hand down his chest, lingering on his abdominal muscles to insist. “You’re just so strong, and I feel so safe in your arms.”

Nero had given her the closeness she wanted last night, she was more than happy to return the favor with the praise he wanted now that her mind was not fogged by exhaustion.

“Safe from what?” Nero arched a blond eyebrow at her, his ego was utterly delighted by her decision to lavish him with compliments first thing in the morning.

“Everything!”

He sucked on his bottom lip, trying not to laugh out loud and carefully put an arm around her.

F’lahminn craned her neck a little too peep up at him, sleepily blinking those pink eyes at him; “You’re awful cute, too.”

“I am not cute.”

“Handsome?”

“…better.”

F’lahminn giggled and Nero decided that she was too adorable, it was futile to resist her charm. Although it had taken him a lot of introspection to do it, he had decided it was genuinely safe not to resist. At least when they were alone, in the privacy of their personal dwellings.

F’lahminn pushed herself up a little so she could lean over Nero, looking down into those Garlean blue eyes that she was rapidly starting to like very much. 

Slowly she lowered her mouth to his for a soft kiss, tentatively, making sure that it was okay that she let her emotions run close to the surface. He could no doubt see her affection in her eyes.

It might be too soon to kiss him like that, like someone looking to make a connection rather than just someone relying on lust and physical attraction to get through the act of copulation.

Nero had been somewhat stern and silent last night, she had found it impossible to gauge his mood, even if she had liked being spooned and held very, very much.

But Nero seemed to not mind it, his free hand coming up to caress her cheek and run through her hair.

Soft kisses given back and forth, enjoying the closeness of one another, instead of it simply being step one of a previously agreed upon activity.

Nero slid his hands up her back, feeling the soft fabric of her night dress bunch under his palms a little and the softness of her skin. It was new by him to appreciate intimate touches and the kisses of a specific woman, as opposed to the one he happened to be with at that moment.

He didn’t dislike it.

Nero had ever been possessive about what was his and the tactile reassurance that this person was his was oddly soothing. 

He suddenly understood why Garlond was always lingering near his wife, giving her little touches and smiles and wanting to hold her hand. 

“Gods fucking dammit.” Nero broke the kiss to blurt out, startling F’lahminn, who looked at him, shocked and wide eyed at his sudden vulgarity.

“What?!”

“Nothing, nothing.” Nero soothed, laughing a little at her expression, drawing his arms more tightly around her so that he could move her gently to her back and pull her tightly against him. “Just realizing I am an idiot.”

“The Hells you are.” F’lahminn protested lightly.

The type of intelligence it took to get 3 millennia old Allagans relic not only working but restoring it to full power was unfathomable to her. Not to mention she had taken a peek at some of the many books in Nero’s apartment and they may as well have been written in a different language for all that she could make heads or tails of their contents. 

“You can do that more.” Nero gave an amused little growl, capturing her mouth with heated kisses and preventing her from answering for several long moments.

She slid her arms around his neck, arching her body into his solid, muscular one and just relishing being wrapped up and repeatedly kissed. 

“Er, do what?” F’lahminn asked, when they had to pause for breath, confused and brain a wee bit scrambled in the best way.

“Flatter me.” Nero purred, pressing kisses down her pointed chin and nibbling on neck a little.

“Oh!” she gave a little gasp and squirm as his teeth teasingly rasped against her skin before offering saucily. “You are so wonderfully talkative this morning.”

She had not seen him in such a good mood since she had cooked a full traditional meal and he had drunk a rather large amount of beer.

“Do you like that, in particular?” Nero questioned lazily, drawing back and reaching for the thin straps of her night dress. She instantly lowered her arms so that he could slide them down her shoulders, peeling the garment to her waist to reveal her breasts.

She was not wrong. Although she had not been inaccurate about their doing “more than adequately” together and being adults enough to know how to please one another it had been to serve a purpose, not for the act itself until now.

Because of that, and his own sleep deprivation from pushing himself to complete the Ultima Weapon Nero had been mostly silent with F’lahminn, both in the bedroom and out of it. 

Answering in single syllables similar to as he had last night.

Even when he awoke from being comatose his answers had been swift, and short or jokes to hide feeling vulnerable behind. F’lahminn had not minded but since he was willing to talk to her now she would gladly take it for all it was worth.

“I do. Your voice is exceedingly pleasant when you aren’t saying unkind things.”

“Mmm. I knew you too soft for a soldier’s wife.” Nero rumbled but his tone of voice was gentle, and amused.

Softness was what he had needed, not that he knew it at the time. Someone who had not been so hardened by the world that they were constantly protecting themselves and incapable of giving him the quick, easy praise he so desperately desired.

His mouth found her throat and breasts, painting them with his affections until F’lahminn squirmed with desire.

F’lahminn had no idea what had come over him, but she had few complaints, especially as his agile fingers leisurely found one of her pink, pert nipples, teasing and stiffening it with his touch.  
His tongue and lips adorning her collarbones with kisses and his hands traveled down her sides, gripping the fabric of her simple sleep dress. 

He slept nude and wanted her naked also.

Her dress was more or less ripped from her body, Nero’s large hands making short work of the flimsy apparel.

“Mine.” Nero murmured, and she could practically hear the smirk no doubt hovering on his mouth as his lips kissed her skin. “They all wanted you but you’re mine.”

He kissed her forcefully but without a lick of protest from F’lahminn.

She was at a loss as to who “they” were, if she was honest and she was entirely too distracted with heated kisses to try and decipher it now.

“Yes, Nero. All yours.” She agreed when they paused for breath, curling her hands around his shoulders and hitching one of her legs over his hip so that his questing hands could possess themselves of the flesh at her backside easier.

She liked his possessiveness and despite his aggressiveness the nips his teeth took at her neck were controlled and calculated perfect to bring her pleasure, not pain.

She gave a wiggle, scooting down a little to reach for him and found her hands taken by the wrists and very determinedly guided back up to his chest.

“Let me play.” Nero scolded with a ribald grin and F’lahminn bit her lip.

“Yes, Nero.”

“My favorite phrase! You are not to say anything else for the rest of the morning, understood?” He tapped her very gently on the nose with one long finger, utterly enjoying her compliance.

“Yes, Nero.” F’lahminn replied obediently, highly intrigued as to the sudden dominant/ submissive turn their morning had taken. She wasn’t objecting in the slightest.

Despite his words absolutely being commands there was a warmth and, dare she say it, a tenderness that had never been there before.

And play Nero did, because he liked F’lahminn’s voice as much as she liked his and knowing that she was making those particular noises in direct response to what he was doing to her was ever so satisfying.

It was not hard for F’lahminn to see that Nero had a consent kink about 7 malms wide.

Unsurprising for someone who had been so unwanted for so many years to be turned on by confirmations of being desired.

“Do you want it?” he fully growled it.

“Yes!” F'lahminn encouraged, reaching for him and pulling him into a kiss as he settled between her legs.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Nero!”

She adored the way he always, always double checked for her consent, but she did not just want it, she wanted more than just sex. She wanted him. His touches, his kisses, him to be the one giving her pleasure and receiving pleasure from her. “I want you, Nero.” 

This statement purred against his lips, provoked genuine smiles from the man a top her.

“Not technically allowed but I shall forgive it this one time.”

He kissed her before she could argue, and dropping a hand between their bodies to guide himself to her entrance.

F’lahminn caught her breath in anticipation, eyes slipping closed of their own accord as she felt his thick length enter her slowly. 

“Oh…. Gods…” she moaned against his mouth.

“Do I feel good?”

“Yes, Ner…oh!”

His hands found her hips, and then her legs, holding her very tightly as he began to move and F’lahminn lost the ability to speak.

He had always felt good inside her, they had always connected well physically but with the added emotional connection it was especially sweet. He had let her reach him, F'lahminn had little doubt she would never had managed to do so had it not been a conscious choice on Nero's part. He was simply too controlled for anything else.

She arched into Nero and he wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her close, moving only his hips and just savoring the building heat and pleasure and friction of their bodies rocking together.

She held onto his body, arms loosely around his ribs and feeling the muscles in Nero’s back flex with every move he made. 

Nero’s mouth split in a sharp grin as F’lahminn’s eyes squeezed tightly closed, neck elongated back as she gasped in that ever so delightfully musical way she did.

Vaguely in the small part of his brain that hadn’t completely given up any and all conscious thought he wondered if she even realized that she fully trilled top C when she was getting close.

He dragged his tongue up her neck, nipping and biting her shoulders, all the while moving hard and deep inside her, turning F’lahminn into a tightly wound spring of utter pleasure.

There was no point trying to return the attention. She’d learned that about him by now. He wanted to control her at this point of their bedroom antics, and she damn well wanted to let him.

F’lahminn pressed her face into Nero’s chest and he could feel her desperate gasps and notes of pleasure against his skin. The fur of her ears tickled just a whisker, but the distraction helped him push down his own impending release until he could coax one out of her.

Even as controlled as Nero was her carnal songs were his favorite thing in the entire world and it was every so difficult not to get lost in them. Especially with her wrapped around him like liquid silk, loving everything he did. 

For the first time in his life Nero was perceiving that being with someone who trusted you and even loved you could make a coupling far better than something simply lust based.

F’lahminn moaned something almost unintelligible that might have been and attempt at continued obedience by saying “yes.”

“Oh… oh… ye…yye….ioh!!” 

Climax hit her before Nero had a chance to find out for sure, her body jerking and nails digging into his back as she clung to him, hips moving on their own accord, her body trying to savor every last, little, tiny bit of sensation.

With a deep growl Nero grabbed her hips to prevent her fully spasming away from him before cuming as well, utterly unable to hold it back for even a moment longer.

He was annoyed by this, rather feeling like his stamina was normally better than that but F’lahminn didn’t seem to care in the slightest, running her hands through his blond hair repeatedly, still clinging to him.

She knew to whom she was married, however, and moved to disentangle her limbs from around Nero the second she felt she was able to manipulate them once more.

He did not snuggle willingly.

“Get back here.” Nero scolded, yanking her close again. His strength so vastly superior to her own it was no effort to pull her tightly against him again.

“Oh… you want custard after lunch, I take it?” F’lahminn asked with a soft little giggle, burrowing closer and throwing a leg over his. If he was going to demand sweets in exchange for snuggles she was going to get her monies worth.

“Yes. And that battered toast stuff they made in Ishgard for breakfast.”

 

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are always appreciated ^_^


End file.
